A Hidden Agenda
by kia maro
Summary: "What is the hidden agenda behind the Ministry's New Deal? It sounds too good to be true, but is it really?" I was suggested to up the rating to M after chapter 10.
1. The Minister for Magic calls a meeting

1. The Minister for Magic calls a meeting

The silvery light from Kingsley Shacklebolt's patronus brightened the semi-darkness of the library at 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius awoke from his thoughts.

"Order meeting at 4 pm."

The lynx faded into nothing. Sirius checked his watch. A quarter to four. An order meeting in the middle of the afternoon? Called by the wizard who was the Minister for Magic during the days and only functioned as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix late at night or, sometimes, on weekends? What was going on? The Order had been an informal thing for the past four years, almost more of a social gathering than an underground watch-out for dark creatures or whispers of matters relating to the now shattered Death Eaters. No activity of Death Eaters had been reported. After the Battle of Hogwarts and the death of Voldemort, the Death Eaters' dark mark had been transformed to a tracing mark. Aurors all over England were alerted when more than five of them met for a longer period of time. _So what is going on? _

Sirius finished the letter to one of his tenants in Scotland, sealed it and went over to the curtained window. The pitch-black owl in the cage chirped happily. After attaching the roll of parchment to the owl's leg, giving it a treat of chicken liver and letting it out, Sirius left the library. He walked down the stairs, deep in thought, but not really worried. After many years of constant terror, imprisoned, on the run or, worst of all: dead, nothing really seemed to get to him. It was the same for many of them. After living through the hell of two wars, or in the case of the younger members, at least one war, no one seemed to be able to collect enough energy to live life. Not the life they had imagined as young, at least. Lives with families, children, hobbies and fulfilling jobs. They all worked, of course, and a few of them had what could be regarded careers, but most of them lived their half-lives. Their friendship that stemmed from their school days and their involvement in the Order during the war, was the most important thing to most of them, even the lucky few who had serious relationships and children, like the Lupin's or Bill and Fleur Weasley. They met in the evenings, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in larger groups. Quite often they didn't talk about themselves, but watched others, wizards, witches and muggles alike and discussed what they saw. Was it really necessary with a pram as large as a small car? Did people really have to walk and eat their lunch at the same time? Weren't the lawns in Hyde Park better mowed twenty years ago? Sirius and Remus met at least once a week, on their own. Their friendship was deep enough to handle real talk. They could share their pain of the past and their worry for the future. They worried about the young generation, Harry's generation, the young war heroes who never seemed to get on with other aspects of adult life than work. It was as if they didn't care for the more important things in life. Harry worked as an auror at the Ministry but upholding the law among the magic population of Britain was not really a challenge anymore. After the war, the capture of the worst Death Eaters, their trials, and sentences that imprisoned most of them in Azkaban, the wizards and witches in Britain rarely broke the law. Harry spent his days filing cases of broom speeding and brewing of illegal, but weak, love-potions. He also pretended not to know about Sirius unregistered motorbike that could fly twice as fast as any enchanted broom. He didn't seem to mind the lack of challenges at work though, and Sirius could respect that; he had himself never been a strong believer of hard work. What Sirius couldn't understand, and what troubled him, was that Harry wasn't passionate about anything. The same went for his closest friends; Ronald Weasley had gone into business with his brother George, but was light-years away from matching Fred in ingenuity or mischief, and mainly minded the books. The third part of the trio that had brought Voldemort down, Hermione Granger taught Potions at Hogwarts, academically skilled but not even close to the pedagogical teacher Sirius had known her to be to Harry and Ron during their time as students. Lots of people, wizards and muggles alike, chose careers that paid well enough but didn't take all the time and energy. People like that often had families, a large social life or, at least, something to fill their life with. Harry had none of that, as was the case with most of the young generation whose Hogwarts years had seen the second rise of Voldemort. Sirius felt like a father, or at least an older brother, to Harry and many of his friends. Remus felt equally paternal, or fraternal.

"What is the matter with them, Sirius?" Remus had asked during one of their frequent nights in front of the fireplace in the library at Grimmauld Place. "They just mill around like sheep. Or ghosts."

"Maybe they are ghosts," Sirius had answered thoughtfully over the brim of a glass of fire whiskey. "Ghosts are the shadow of people who long for a life they can't have anymore, but their longing is so strong they can't let go and go into the light, or wherever they should go. There is no light behind that bloody veil, I can tell you that."

"I know, Sirius. But somehow you weren't really dead, were you? Let me keep my faith in that light a little longer. How does Harry and the others compare to ghosts, do you mean?"

"How old were we when we became involved in the first war? It must have been in our very last year at Hogwarts. We were seventeen, almost adults, and we played a very small part in the beginning. Dumbledore saw to that. I think I was almost twenty when I went on my first real mission. A dangerous mission where I could be killed. I wasn't, thank Merlin, but I killed three Death Eaters who held Alice Longbottom captive. And afterwards I went out with you, James and Peter, got drunk and talked about it. Dumbledore never sent us on missions together in the beginning, do you remember that? On the field, we were always paired up with someone more experienced for our first active months in the Order."

"I've never thought about that, but you are right."

"And when we graduated from Hogwarts, the Order was active and well run by Dumbledore, Augusta Longbottom and Minerva McGonagall's brother, what's his name?"

"Malcolm."

"Yes, Malcolm Mc Gonagall. The Order was strong, we were as safe as we could be, considering we fought a war. When Harry first faced Voldemort, he was eleven years old and the Order had been dissolved for ten years. No one even remembered it, no one wanted to remember it. We lost so many in the first war, it hurt to even think about the Order. Dumbledore didn't have a clue about what was going on during Harry's first year, not until afterwards. Harry had Ron and Hermione. They began fighting the Second Wizarding War at the age of eleven! Four years before that sorry excuse for a Minister, Fudge, even acknowledged there was a second war. They had so much joy of their teens replaced with fear and worry. They had to be so much braver that any teenager should ever have to be."

Remus filled Sirius' empty glass. His amber eyes pleaded silently for Sirius to continue.

"At Hogwarts, we broke the curfew to roam the forest as animagi, we got drunk on smuggled fire whiskey, we pranked some Slytherins; I still prefer Lucius Malfoy in pink hair. Once James and I took off on my motorbike and got caught by the muggle police."

"I remember that. Arthur and I flew after you on broomsticks and crashed into the policemen's car when you upended it."

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"I had to obliviate them before we returned."

"The most dangerous thing we did, or I did, was when I tricked Snape to go to the Shack at full moon. That was stupid."

"Indeed."

"I was so angry. My anger put us all in danger. But still, we had good Hogwarts years. Harry had to see the Diggory boy die. If any of us had been in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts it would have been a laugh, a thrilling competition. Harry was scared the whole year. Harry saw Voldemort regaining his body and collect his most devoted Death Eaters. He killed the bloody basilisk and the first of the horcruxes before he even knew about them. He formed the DA in his fifth year, when Dumbledore wouldn't let him join the Order, even though DA was pretty much like how the Order started. Then he lost me."

Sirius voice broke.

"And you lost him," Remus finished for him.

Sirius cleared his throat.

"Yes, I lost him and couldn't be there for the two last years of the second war. That was the worst when I came back. To know that he'd been alone."

"He wasn't alone, Sirius. Give me some credit. And Kingsley and Moody. Even Snape."

"You are right. But when the veil spat me out into a completely abandoned Ministry and I finally, after I don't know how many apparitions, got to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts he looked as if he'd been to hell and back."

"He had, I guess."

"Yes, and he was only seventeen. As were many of the others. Ginny was sixteen, George was nineteen and had just lost his closest brother. We both know, more or less, what they had been through, but can you imagine what they had missed?"

Remus put another log on the fire. He nodded slowly. He was about to say something when his friend continued.

"They had missed the fun and joy and irresponsibility of being teenagers. How can we expect them to be responsible and happy adults now?"

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

"Yes. A lot. I can live with the fact that my life less than I thought it would be. I live within these walls. Sometimes I go for a ride. Occasionally, Molly threatens to hex me if I don't show up for dinner at the Burrow. I keep the Black seat on the board of governors at Hogwarts, Minerva is grateful for that. She is actually the best headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. We used to think she was all straight-arrowed, following every rule under the sun, or at least, under that enchanted ceiling, but she's not. She is still in the process of changing, or bending every possible rule her predecessors implemented. She takes a special interest in the nonsense my great-great-grandfather implemented. Lots of pure-blood ideas. There are enchantments within the castle helping and protecting pure-bloods to a larger extent than the others. Haven't you ever wondered how I could graduate with almost as fine grades as you did? I didn't know at the time, though. I just thought I was clever. Nevertheless, Phineas Nigellus' rules and guide-lines are surrounded by charms and even anti-muggle-born jinxes. Minerva has asked me if I can explain how Phineas thought, what made him, or what makes a pure-blood Black tick, in order to remove the unfair advantage for the few poor pure-bloods left. I can't help her with that, of course, I've never understood the pure-blood mania in my family, but I've found some clues in this library. Phineas diaries are on the shelf over there. Not a reading you can enjoy on a full stomach. But I don't share my life with anyone. You and Harry are the closest thing to a family I have. And the Black family will die with me, which gives me some pleasure."

"Oh, Sirius, I wish…"

"Don't. I'm OK with it, but I'm not OK with Harry heading in the same direction. He loves Ginny, they've been together for five years. Why aren't they getting married and start a family? Sure, Ginny is the seeker for the Chudley Cannons but she can't do that forever. They could at least live together. She still lives at home, and Harry here. They date as if they just met. She doesn't stay the night more that twice a month. And they DO love each other. I love having Harry here. On a good day we actually talk to each other, but sometimes he strikes me as depressed as I was when I was on the run and hid here for almost a year. You know, when I preferred the company of Buckbeak."

"I remember."

"I'm thinking of going to Gringott's and get some of the Black jewellery. I'd like to give them to Harry to give him a shove in the right direction. I wish I had the ring James gave Lily but that must have been buried with her."

"Yes, it was. I saw her."

"Almost all the jewellery I can remember from the bank vault are ugly as hell and inscribed with mottos in dead languages. They might even be curses for all I know. On the other hand, Ginny is pure-blood and the jewellery would probably stick to her like that god-awful portrait of my mother in the hall. But there might be some nice pieces left."

"It sounds like a good idea. They look very much in love, but I do agree, they behave as if they've just met."

The box of jewellery stood on Sirius desk in the library, but he hadn't had the energy to sort though them yet. He needed to check them for the curses he knew about, and finish the last diary of Phineas Nigellus to learn some new. His great-great-grandfather's forte had been small but powerful curses, next to impossible to detect.

He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when a voice muttered inched from his left ear.

"Do you really find this appropriate?" the voice said.

Sirius flinched and faced the wall the voice came from.

"Oh, it's you. I just thought about you, Phineas."

"I'm glad to hear that. I think a lot about you too, Sirius. You are the remaining heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

"And the last, I'm happy to inform you."

"Nonsense, you are still young. But do you really find this appropriate?"

"You find nothing decent appropriate, so what are you on about this time, Phineas?"

"This house is more often than not blissfully empty. I've learned to tolerate that half-blood boy and the werewolf, but have you even noticed how many unworthy people who have turned up the last fifteen minutes?"

"There is an Order meeting. And there are no unworthy people in this house. A few paintings that could decorate the cells of Azkaban though…"

Phineas didn't hear, or pretended not to have heard, the last remark and continued.

"I saw that oaf Longbottom floo in from Hogwarts, with a mudblood. I could almost smell her. And…"

Sirius closed his eyes and stopped listening. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and felt his pocketknife. It had been a gift from his uncle Alphard on his fourteenth birthday and he had found it in his bedroom when he had returned to Grimmauld Place a year after he had escaped Azkaban. Absentmindedly he flicked the blade and was just about to continue towards the hall when Phineas' shill voice broke through his deafened ears.

"… and he is black! In this house!"

Almost against his own will, Sirius faced his ancestor again.

"Who is Black in this house? I'm the only Black left and I can assure you there will be no more inbred lunatics named Black."

"No, not Black, but black, as in coloured. That new pro-mudblood minister just walked in. Shacklebag."

"Shacklebolt," Sirius automatically corrected him while gaping incredulously at the rather ugly paining of the even uglier man. "Do you mean to say that you object to the colour of Shaklebolt's skin, your old hypocrite?" The blade of his pocketknife was now fully extended.

"Well, he's not like us. Even the werewolf looks more like us. This Shacklebin looks as dirty as if his dirty mudblood has reached his skin. Very handy, if you think about it. It makes it easier to pinpoint them, maybe give them a piece of land somewhere in Wales and let them muck up at the dragon farms there."

Sirius shoved the sharp blade of the small knife into the canvas of the painting, half an inch from Phineas' head. That got him the full attention of his ancestor.

"You're an idiot, grandfather Black. You always were. Kingsley Shacklebolt is as pureblood as purebloods can be, but from Jamaica, where everyone has brown skin due to far more frequent sunshine than in this gloomy country. What's interesting in your ramblings is that the view of sorting and, somehow, grade people after skin colour, or race as the muggles call it, is a muggle thing. We don't do that in the wizarding world. But it is also interesting that you, in your old age, have embraced some muggle values. Of course it had to be the most revolting idea in the muggle world, but you are toeing a line where some deluded muggles would agree with you. Now, what do you think I should do with this knife? Aim better?"

Phineas Nigellus left the painting without a word. Sirius assumed he went to his portrait at the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. He continued down the stairs towards the hall where people appeared out of thin air by apparition or stepped out of the fire place, brushing floo powder from their shoulders.


	2. A note from the author

A note from the author.

This is a long story, in many chapters. The pace might be slow at times. Well, since the lovely Ms Rowling won't give us anymore, I can't resist wallowing in the settings she only gave us a glimpse of, or see what her characters will do in a new plot. I don't really like bringing in new settings, or new main characters in fan fiction. It's playing around with HER characters that it fun for me, not inviting new ones into her world, and definitely not take them to Thailand or anywhere else that was never hinted at in canon.

love

Kia


	3. Kingsley's news

2. Kingsley's news

With a dark frown he left the last step of the stairs. His ancestor could always put him in a foul mood. The entrance door to Grimmauld Place opened and a very out of breath Remus Lupin stepped into the hall.

"Sirius!" Reums almost panted. "I've tried to reach you all day. I've sent you three owls. Have they found you?"  
"No. No owls for me today. Well, there were a few, but they looked like the ones Flourish and Blotts send me with their sales campaigns so I didn't let them in."

"They were from me. They were the Ministry's common barn owls we public servants can use for personal messages. Flourish and Botts uses tawny olws."

"Really? So, what did you want?"

"The Wizengamot is about to pass a new law. It concerns all of us, more or less. Kingsley had to whiz up some really elaborate lies to be able to call this Order meeting. The Bulgarian Minister for Magic is now on a guided trip at Hogwarts, even though he came here to discuss the broomsticks for the Quidditch World Cup. He was not amused when Kingsley said he had to get his aching molars fixed at St. Mungo's this afternoon."

"About what? Not Kingsley's teeth, but the law?"

"What we talked about the other evening, in a way. About the young wary war-heroes and what their life style does to our community. And you."

"Me? How?"

"Now, listen, Sirius. I had to do something to…"

They were interrupted by Arthur Weasley from the door leading to the kitchen.

"Are you coming? Everyone else is here."

Sirius and Remus entered the kitchen and met the gaze of more than thirty faces. Kingsley had taken the short side of the table, the place where Sirius usually sat. When Sirius occupied the seat it was more of a way of creating some space around himself, sometimes tilting his chair to signal that he in no way held any chairman's position. Kingsley stood and gazed down at the sixteen sitting wizards and witches around the table, making it very clear who was holding this meeting. Approximately as many others stood around the table. Sirius leaned against the doorframe and gestured to Kingsley to begin. Remus whispered in his ear.

"Damn it! Why didn't you let those owls in? Now, whatever Kingsley says, don't overreact. Better still, don't react at all."

Sirius gave him a curious look, then Kingsley began.

"Dear all. I'm here as the leader of the Order, not the Minister for Magic. As the Minister I am not allowed to announce this yet."

People looked at each other. Kingsley's stern voice and his explicit separation of his two roles made many feel uneasy.

"As you know, Britain is still war-worn. We're still rebuilding the Ministry, Hogwarts, parts of Diagon Alley and a few properties in Ottery St. Catchpole. We're still recovering, but the Minister for Social Welfare among the Magic Population in Britain, Elfride Bendel, has been bugging me for years with the decrease in magical marriages and, more importantly, the decreasing number of births. Her department and she has now conducted an investigation into the matter, and after that she's been bugging me even more than before. Her investigation shows that of the 213 marriages registered the last five years, only 19 % have had children. Comparative numbers for other five-year-periods are considerably higher. The birth rate in our community is, on average, just below 100 per year. During the last five years 40 children have been born to magical parents in Britain, and 23 to muggle parents. Even more alarming, according to Ms Bendel, is that the majority of these children are, as far as her investigation shows, squibs with no or very weak magic powers. We are only talking about the children with magical parents now. The muggleborns are, as you know, a blessing to our world. The Minister for Social Welfare has, as many of you are aware of, previously been close to groups associated with Death Eaters or their supporters but she proved innocent at her trial, even asked for the Veritaserum. If anyone still doubts her, her investigation and her proposals will erase those doubts. According to Ms Bendel's data, 90 % of the squibs, we are talking about 36 children, come from pure-blood families, as many of them were the ones who married quickly after the war. There have only been four children with magic powers born during the last five years, out of which one is Remus' and two others are Fleur and Bill Weasley's."

Kingsley nodded to the three people he had just mentioned. The room was silent.

"I knew it!" Sirius whispered to Remus. "The pure-blood mania I grew up with is just another word for inbreeding. I hope my mother rests un-peacefully in her grave."

Kingsley continued.

"The Minister for Social Welfare now proposes a marriage law that forbids pure-blood marriages."

"Yes! Hear, hear!" muttered Sirius loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Furthermore, Ms Bendel is worried about the moral of the new Magical Britain. Her words, not mine. She interprets the low number of marriages as irresponsible, that people only are interested in having fun and not to commit to the future. I've told her again and again that our grief and losses, our wounds inside haven't healed. You know damn well we're not having fun, we're still grieving. She then shoves statistics on the sales of anti-depressant potions in my face and tells me no one in the country could be depressed with that much long-term pick-me-ups in their systems. And adds the sales of alcohol as a sign of people partying more that planning the future. Ms Bendel is an insensitive fool, of course, but she's gone behind my back to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement who has discussed it with several members of the Wizengamot. I can't really hold her back much longer, and I'm also afraid of what she'd do if I continue to try."

Molly Weasley spoke.

"Well, out with it! What does she suggest?"

Kingsley sighed and swallowed.

"Ms Bendel and her department have compiled a long list of suggestions of approved marriages."

Molly, nor anyone else, said anything for a couple of seconds. People looked at each other. Sirius saw Harry trying to catch Ginny's eyes, but Ginny looked at her father who looked back at her with fear written all over his tired face. A few of them started to whisper, then mumble, and a minute later everyone spoke in a cacophony of sounds where it was impossible to make out a single sentence. Tonks left Molly's side and snuggled into Remus' embrace.

"Thank Merlin I convinced you to marry me before the war," Sirius could make out over the clutter of voices.

Kingsley grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter behind him and beat it hard on the table. The sight of the minister banging a kitchen utensil in a room full of upset people was hilarious, Sirius thought. After making a few indentations in the surface of the table, people quieted down. Except Molly Weasley.

"As in marriages purely for breeding new wizards and witches, Kingsley? Galloping gargoyles! You are the Minister for Magic! You can't allow this!"

"Hold your hippogriffs, Molly. Please, all of you. I'm here to inform you of what is going on. You know me well. My first loyalty is to you, not the Ministry. Now, let me give you the full information before I have to get back to the Bulgarian minister and discuss the national team's new broom sticks."

Molly frowned but remained silent.

"So, to continue, she has given me a list of suggestions, and most of them are well researched. No one will have to consider marriage to anyone they don't know."

Kingsley turned his head and looked at Remus. A strange expression graced his features. Sirius quickly turned to look at his best friend. Remus met Kingsley's eyes over the top of Tonks' black hair and nodded slightly.

"These are suggestions, not commands, and there is nothing in her bill about children. Molly, I assure you, there is no hidden agenda about statutory reproduction. The minister has, however, also suggested a welfare program full of benefits for families with children. The model for this comes from Sweden, I think. In a way I can see the minister's point. She wants progress in our community. She wants us to move on with our lives. Many of these suggestions of marriage are pairings I myself think are matches made in heaven."

Now Ginny met Harry's eyes.

"None of the suggested pair have to get married, but, truth to be told, I don't know what her next step would be if you don't. I don't trust her completely, but I can't see how these pairings are bad in any way." Another quick glance at Remus. "I'll now read the list concerning everyone in this room. Please stay quiet until I've finished."

Kingsley began with the name everyone wondered about, but yes, Harry was paired up with Ginny. Harry blushed and went to stand behind his girlfriend, putting his hands on her shoulders. He then continued with two of the Weasley brothers: Ron and George, whose suggested spouses didn't surprise anyone. Lavender Brown and Angelina Johnson respectively. Sirius stopped listening and watched the beautiful former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team beam up at the one-eared but still handsome entrepreneur. His attention picked up again when Kingsley mentioned Hermione.

"… to Sirius Black."

"What?!" Sirius growled. Then he laughed. Or barked. No one could tell if it was his doglike laugh that stemmed from spending too much time in his animagus form, or the mad laugh he had laughed the night James and Lily died and he had been captured at the scene of twelve dead muggles and Peter Pettigrew's finger.

"What became of 'don't react' Padfoot?" Remus mumbled next to him.

"But, but, I… For fuck's sake, this is insane," Sirius spluttered. "The other matches are reality-based! This… Hermione and me… That's just bizarre, distasteful, revolting!"

He addressed Remus, as he had a hunch that Remus wasn't as surprised as himself, but out of the corner of his eye he saw someone leaving the room through the other door. Honey coloured hair, slight frame. Hermione. He couldn't see her expression. Harry gave him a fierce look before he went after his friend.


	4. The truth

3. The truth

"Remus?" Kingsley asked.

"Yes, of course. Sirius, come on, let's go somewhere else. I need to explain."

Sirius was too stunned to argue, so he let Remus take his arm and lead him out of the kitchen.

"Can I come too?" Tonks asked.

Remus hesitated, but Kingsley nodded and gestured for her to follow her husband and her cousin.

Remus led them to Sirius' study, down the hall from the kitchen. It was a rather dark room with thick velvet curtains in the windows, which faced the small, overgrown garden. Sirius went to his desk, but he didn't sit down. He placed his hands on the worn, dark surface and put his weight on them as he leaned forward. Remus opened the cupboard he knew was full fire whiskey and even muggle vodka. As he searched for sufficiently clean glasses, he heard a thud.

"You idiot!" his wife hissed to Sirius and slapped his shoulder again. She found her voice and continued. "You were a true Black in there, cousin! Old aunt Walburga would have been proud of you."

Sirius turned around and raised his hand to protect himself.

"What?! What did I do? Why are you blaming me? It's the bloody minister, that Bendel woman you should go after. Stop hitting me!"

"I'll deal with her later, but you, you, you … You least nobel, but certainly the most ancient heir to the house of Black," she finished more calmly.

"Tonks," Remus said tentatively. "Even I don't fully understand your anger right now. Sirius knew nothing about it. I've tried to reach him all day to fill him in, but he chose not to be available today." An annoyed look at Sirius.

"Not that!" Tonks roared at her husband. "But in seconds he laughed at the suggestion of marrying one of the most talented and beautiful witches we know. Then he threw in some less than flattering epithets about her. If I remember he used the words 'distasteful and revolting.' He speaks as a true Black. Phineas will never leave his portrait in this house again, he'll be so proud."

"For fuck's sake, Nymphadora, shut up," Sirius snapped at her. "I laughed out of surprise and shock, and I feel I might start do that again any second. And I didn't call Hermione 'revolting'…"

"Oh, yes you did! You heard him, Remus. Didn't he…"

"I said 'Shut up!' Now listen. I find the idea distasteful and, yes, even revolting from her point of view. I find Hermione as smart and beautiful as everyone else does, but the Ministry wants her to marry me. I'm the revolting part of the idea. I'm too old, too anti-social, I've spent twelve years in Azkaban and from that experience I'm not the sanest person around. I've been dead, for fuck's sake. Do you want me to continue? I'm easily depressed, I drink too much, I've never had a job in my life. Why in the name of Merlin would the Ministry ask anyone to marry me? Least of all Hermione, she is what the muggles would call a princess. No one is good enough for her. That prat Weasley hurt her when he broke off with her, and I wanted to strangle him, or at least castrate him. After that she went out with that Bulgarian Quidditch player and, after that, the other one, the British, what's his name? Puddlemere United's keeper?"

"Oliver Wood," Remus supplied.

"Yes, him. And even though none of them could ever match Hermione in brains, talent or grace, any of them would be better than and this old, spent, broken man who sometimes seriously consider spending the rest of his life as Padfoot. The only ones I could even imagine Hermione with would be Harry and the remaining Weasley twin, and both of them see her as their sister. And are involved with others."

He leaned back towards his desk, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The muscles in his jaw shivered. Tonks looked embarrassed and placed a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I misunderstood. Sometimes you just look too much of a Black. And that laugh-when-shocked is rather unnerving. Hermione took it personally, though."

"Shit! Poor girl. No, she can't have. She knows I adore her."

"She didn't run out in anger, she was crying. Would you like me to go to her?"

"Yes!" Sirius said.

"No, stay," Remus said at the same time. "Well, yes of course you should, but, as I'm about to explain, there is more to this than meets the eye. I'll fill you in completely tonight, darling, but what you need to know, before you find Hermione, is that this plan is crucial. Both Kingsley and I really want Hermione to marry Sirius. It's a question of her safety. But, please go find her and set her perspective right. Don't say anything about her safety, just pretend you somehow agree with the marriage law. You might even convince her that married life is a good thing," he finished with a wink.

"It is, Remus," Tonks said quietly. She then put her arms around Sirius and whispered in his ear. "I really am sorry, you know. You just look so much like your father, I sometimes expect aunt Walburga to stand next to you and promt even more ghastliness to come out of your mouth. I know you are a good person. Hermione could do a lot worse. If Remus and Kingsley have more information you'd better listen and do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

She left the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

"Here." Remus handed Sirius a glass with amber liquid. His hand shook slightly. "And sit." He gestured towards one of the armchairs next to the dusty curtains.

Sirius sat and peeked out through the small gap. The garden bathed in sunshine and the strong light made it look even more neglected than usual. He felt uneasy and avoided looking at Remus.

"As Kingsley's Senior Undersecretary I know almost as much as he does about our administration. Presently I'm mostly working as a liaison officer between the Ministry and the werewolf population and that takes almost all my time. I don't think I've seen Kingsley more than four times since Christmas. However, yesterday he came into my office and informed me about Ms Bendel's ideas. The same things he told the Order just now. He didn't have that list though; Bendel didn't give it to him until this morning. But yesterday she had informed him about that the suggestions would be well researched, she mentioned Harry and Ginny as an example, and appropriate."

"So my name next to Hermione's is just a typo? Is that what you're saying?"

"No. I put it there. Or I convinced Kingsley to make Bendel to put it there."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Wait. Please keep your trap shut 'til I've finished."

Sirius nodded and refilled his glass.

"Kingsley called me into his office this morning. Bendel had just sent him the list. He acted a bit strange, but I didn't pay attention to that, I guess I found it reasonable considering this whole business. It would be a huge change in our community with all these arranged marriages."

"Not really. I come from a long line of arranged marriages, many pure-bloods do. Not the Potter's perhaps, even though Lily was the first not-pure-blood to marry into that family. They didn't mind her blood status, though, like my parents would have if I brought home a girl with even a drop of not-magic blood in her veins. I could trick them with Veela girls but it was so difficult for me to keep a straight head with one of those around. Oh, Merlin, I feel I am about to start laughing again." He took a large gulp of fire whiskey and pressed his lips together.

"Yes, I know about the history of arranged marriages, but they were never of this extent. We are talking about 200 arranged marriages that the Social Welfare department wants to register before the end of the year. Anyway, Kingsley gave me the list and smiled. He used the same words as in the kitchen just now. 'Matches made in heaven.' I didn't pay attention to him, but started reading and yes, he was right. I mean, who could handle Alice and Frank's son better than Miss Lovegood? And Angelina and George. There were, of course, also names of people I don't really know. When I got towards the end of the list I started to feel really positive about the whole idea, and wasn't really interested in finishing my reading. I was just about to put the list down and congratulate Kingsley on his choice of minister for Social Welfare, when I saw a smudge among the names. One line, with two names, where my eyes couldn't really find a good focus. Somehow I was still a tiny bit curious, so I took it to the window and tried really hard. Maybe it was a question of pride. We don't really want to admit that we are getting on in years and far-sightedness is definitely a sign of age. In the sunlight I could read the blurry line. It read Hermione Granger and Rodolphus Lestrange."

"What?!" Sirius sprayed his friend with a mouthful of Ogden's as he went from pale to paler. "Lestrange? He's older than I am, but worst of all, he is mad. He's a sadist, a lunatic, a flaming danger to every living thing."

"I know. And I wasn't even upset. I can't remember how I thought, I was just happy I could make out the scribble, but somewhere in my mind I realised I was under a spell. I focused so hard to clear my head. You mentioned Veelas. This was similar. I left the list on the desk and stepped out of Kingsley's office, and felt a little better. Kingsley was just sitting there, petting one of the barn owls. Didn't seem to have a care in the world. I went to find Bob McGonagall, Minerva's nephew. He's Head of the Committee on Experimental Charms, began his career as an auror, and he's really good at detecting dark magic. I explained the situation quickly and he went back with me. He didn't step into the office, but he nodded, as if he could feel the spells. Then he muttered some counter-spells. Not just _Finite Incantatem_, but some I've never heard before. The whole room went ice cold and the list crackled like bad muggle electricity. Then some smoke rose from the parchment and everything went back to normal. Bob checked Kingsley and me for traces of spells or curses, and he found a mild, but unusual version of an _Imperio_ curse in both of us. It seemed to have come from the list, from the blurry line."

"A written curse? I've never heard about that before. Curses in objects, yes, but never what you describe."

"Neither have I. Bob, on the other hand, had. When they went through the Carrows' rooms at Hogwarts they found research in this area. It would work like a forwarded secret enclosed in the Fidelius Charm, if you are the Secret-Keeper you can share the secret via a written message. But very little has been researched in this field. Bob compiled a list of counter-spells, right after the war, to protect the officers working with the Department of Magical Artefacts. They went through such piles of objects when clearing out houses of dead Death Eaters, and to be better safe than sorry, they used a standard collection of counter-spells as soon as they came across anything new. Sometimes objects reacted just like the list in Kingsley's office."

"Kreacher," Siruis mumbled and the house-elf appeared immediately. "I need some butterbeer. I mustn't get drunk today. Not yet. And make some sandwiches too." The house-elf bowed without a word. "Please," Sirius added, and Kreacher was gone.

"Well, to continue. Bob stayed with us to make sure we didn't slip under any other spells. We listed the main questions: Who is behind the spell around Hermione's name, which made everyone who read it want to skip that line? Is it the Social Welfare minister or is she also a puppet? And why Hermione? And to what purpose? Since the minister has been to clear on that these are suggestions, not commands, what would happen if Hermione refused? Which she would, of course."

"I'll marry her this afternoon and move to the west coast of Ireland," Sirius muttered. "I'll hire some goblins and start a whiskey brewery."

**A/N: You'd better give some feedback and reviews if you want me to keep posting.**

**K**


	5. Remus' plan

A/N: The first of two new chapters tonight. Thank you for your reviews. Keep'em coming, and so will I.

K

4. Remus' plan

"You'll do no such thing," Remus interrupted his friend's musings. "You'll stay here and do what Kingsley tells you to. Thank you, Kreacher, that'll be all."

The house-elf didn't move.

"Thank you, Kreacher. You can leave now," Sirius said and they were alone again. "Sometimes he obeys Harry, but more often not. It's a lost cause for you. But why Hermione?"

"Rumour has it, among the old Death Eaters that it was she who killed Bellatrix in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Wasn't it Molly?"

"Indeed, but I think some of the old fanatics can't accept the thought of a middle-aged mother offing their master's second in command. Hermione is powerful, was even then. She's a symbol for the young, brave, uncompromising heroes who saved the wizarding world. The fanatics don't see it that way, of course, but they acknowledge her power. Somehow this rumour got started and I think it's easier to focus their hate on her, rather on Molly. I don't think they dare go after Harry again, but Hermione's muggle blood makes them think she is easier to target."

"The west coast of Ireland still holds some appeal to me," Sirius mumbled and unscrewed the butterbeer bottle.

"The next thing we needed to know was the Social Minister's role. We sent Bob to collect some Veritaserum from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and prepared tea. Then we draw the outline of a plan. We decided to use the fact that the pairings on the list were supposed to be well researched, and some of them surprised even me. Do you think Minerva knows about Horace Slughorn and Pomona Sprout's extracurricular activities after curfew?"

"Slughorn and Sprout?" Sirius laughed, but it wasn't the mad laugh from earlier, but warm and good-humoured.

"Well, she's about to find out. Along with some other relationships we haven't been aware of. But I wish them well. The Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses could both gain from getting closer acquainted."

Sirius just chuckled and stretched his legs. Remus continued.

"Can you think of a name missing from the list Kingsley read us today?"

"I'd hoped it would be mine. But, no. What are you getting at?"

"One of the Weasley brothers, perhaps?"

"You mean Charlie?" Remus nodded to Sirius question. "But he's gay, everyone knows that."

"Exactly. And in that way the pairings are well researched. The point of the list of suggested marriages, or one of the points, there might be several hidden agendas behind it all, I don't know, but I think one crucial point is to deal with the pure-bloods."

Sirius expression lightened when he imagined his mother rolling over in her grave. The expression 'to deal with' had never been uttered in that context in his house before.

"Those are my words," said Remus, "but I see you don't mind. The statistics is rather difficult to turn a blind eye to. The pure-blood marriages can't have magical children anymore. Bill and Fleur's children are the only magical children born to two pure-blood parents the last five years. Probably because she comes from France and their bloodlines are completely different. This proposal suggests what you've always wanted, the end of all, so called, pure bloodlines. The only way to keep some of the pure blood at all is to 'dilute' it." He made little rabbit ears with his fingers.

Sirius gaped at his friend, and then a smile slowly graced his features.

"Good. Lovely. Do you think you can go and repeat this in the hall, to my mother's portrait?"

Remus chuckled, then turned serious again.

"So, as bloodlines are concerned Charlie Weasley is a perfect candidate for a mixed marriage to a half-blood or a muggleborn, his pure blood is precious, but the minister and her department know damn well that he wouldn't marry any girl, and even less so make her pregnant. This was Kingsley's and my starting point. The compilation of the list had actually respected people's privacy, even though the minister is prepared to make everyone's privacy public now."

Remus grabbed a sandwich, took a bite and swallowed before he continued.

"Hermione's name was the only one on the whole list that was totally wrong. Along with the three owls I sent you, I sent about twenty owls to various people to ask them to confirm their own, or friends of theirs, relationships. They must think I'm about to change my career and start working with Rita Skeeter at the Daily Prophet Gossip supplement. Then we had to find someone else for Hermione, a pure-blood wizard, and I can tell you, there wasn't a decent man left except you. And I don't mean that as if you were the last choice."

"We pure-bloods are rarely decent," Sirius mumbled.

"Nonsense. You're just too tied down by your own family that, admittedly, lacked some in that department. Look at the Weasleys', the Longbottoms', the Shacklebolts'.

"You don't know the sins of my pure-blood family."

"But I do, Sirius. I'm married to your cousin, after all. I've heard the most horrifying stories, but I'll take it they are true."

"The ghastlier they are, the more probable they are true." Sirius sighed.

"Oh, Sirius. How little I knew about you when we were at school together."

"Of course. You wouldn't have been my friend if you knew my background."

"Really? Do you think so little of me?" Remus challenged.

Sirius remained silent. Remus decided to return to the topic at hand.

"You are often on my mind, Sirius, and this morning we were looking for a strong, confident, independent, unmarried, pure-blood wizard who couldn't in any way be suspected of being, or ever having been, loyal to the Death Eaters. So, you were our best option, partly because of your status, but also for being an Order member. I fear they are out there again. Without the leader they had before, but still keeping his values. This plan might be a way for them to salvage what they can of their pure blood."

"I feel sick." Sirius put down the empty bottle on the small table in front of him. A sudden thought struck him. "Why wasn't I on the list from the beginning?"

"I'll come to that now. Kingsley invited Ms Bendel for tea in his office, and I stayed as his Undersecretary. Her tea was spiked with Veritaserum. I know, totally illegal."

"As if I'd care."

"Yes. Right. Kingsley led the discussion and he had two issues. First he pretended not to know about Charlie Weasley being gay, but then Ms Bendel went to great length to explain this and, also, that her research had been as respectful as possible, even if it means that some relationships the people involved have chosen to keep secret will be revealed now. Like Slughorn and Sprout. Then Kingley asked about Hermione and Ms Bendel went completely blank. She had no idea. She reacted as if Hermione had been overlooked, but, on the other hand, the list is, supposedly, about marrying off pure-bloods. With the curse lifted from the list she could of course read that Hermione had been paired up with Lestrange, but I swear on my Marauder's honour, that she didn't have a clue before. She wasn't as revolted as we were, you know what friends she used to keep, and, I've been told, Lestrange can be charming when he puts his mind to it."

"Indeed, he can. Bella used to be half-decent before she met him."

"I can't imagine, but I'll take your word for it."

"But how did you go about to get him replaced with me?"

"Well. You should have been there. Or maybe not. Kingsley complimented Ms Bendel on her work. We had decided to play along. As Kingsley said before, we don't really know what she, or whoever is behind her, will do if we protest too loudly. Some pairings are matches made in heaven, and you said yourself the other night that many of the young in our community ought to get on with living their lives. He then asked about you. You being the only remaining heir to the largest and oldest pure-blooded wizarding families in Britain, and that unnerved her. Kingsley smooched the fact with suggestions of your criminal record and then official death, and that you perhaps haven't been reinstated among the living in all records, and she seemed to buy that. It might even be true, what do I know. It is a little strange that whoever, I strongly suspect Death Eaters, but I'm not ready to admit it yet… Well, I find it strange that whoever doesn't want your pure blood in a slightly diluted form. To keep a part of the Black bloodline."

Remus opened a second bottle of butterbeer and hesitated. He cleared his throat several times before he started speaking again.

"Then Kingsley fed Ms Bendel the most explicit story I've ever heard about a secret love affair. Between you and Hermione. And reminded her about how considerate the investigation claimed to be. If it really was, Hermione should be married to you since you two… well, you don't need the details."

Sirius looked amused.

"No, maybe I don't, but I can still enjoy the images my mind creates from your words."

Remus looked appalled, then he frowned and left the subject.

"If this New Social Deal somehow is a plan to get to the woman who allegedly cursed your cousin to pieces, behind a new Social Welfare system, and I'm not saying it can't be both, she, Hermione that is, has to be safe. You were the only candidate I could think of this morning, but the idea is indeed growing on me. I've heard Viktor Krum is still single, but would you really want her to move to Bulgaria? I've thought about other single foreign pure-bloods today, but I still don't think anyone compares with you. If some of these fucking lunatics are back, both you and Hermione have fought them before, you know them, their strengths, but also their weaknesses. Right?"

"Of course I wouldn't want her to marry Krum, he's got nothing but sawdust between his ears," Sirius grumbled, "but how on earth can I convince her to marry me? Let her in on your conspiracy theory?"

"No," Remus answered quickly. "No, not yet, at least."

Sirius looked exasperated.

"Well, how then? Do you mean I should court her? Win her over? Flirt with her? Turn on all of the Black charm that's left in me? And I sincerely doubt there is much left."

"If we had more time, that would be a plan, but it could also backfire."

"It would backfire, I can promise you that. Hermione has never considered me lover-material. Older brother, perhaps even father. Ugh, this is disgusting. She'll see me as a pervert."

Remus remained unfazed by Sirius' outburst.

"I want you to convince her this is a New Social Deal in our community that could be good for many, if not perhaps tailor-made for the two of you. There is, as Kingsley said, no statutory reproduction, no pressure to consummate the marriage. It could be a marriage of convenience."

"Great. Just lovely. I'm not the marrying kind, and now I'm on my way into a marriage of convenience."

"If you think just a little bit longer than your nose, or, perhaps other parts of your body, you'll see that there are other things at stakes here."

"Yes. You're right. I'm sorry. I just feel so uneasy about it all."

"Pretend to play along with the Ministry, but assure her that you are pretending. That you're just playing along to be smooth towards the administration. Promise her a quick divorce if she'd ever want one. She is not the one forbidden to marry anyone of her choice, according to this new proposal. You are."

"I wasn't this morning. I was blissfully forgotten in the registers of eligible bachelors. And now you're having me divorced before I'm even married. But, OK, I'll play along. I'll take 'the blame', claiming it's my pure blood that needs her more than she needs me."

"For now, at least."

"What do you mean?"

"We have no idea how things will develop. We might have to fill her in. I'd rather do that after you two are married. Hermione would never want protection. She'd be offended if we even suggested it. But Kingsley and I have a hunch she might really, really need it, need you as a legal… anchor. Being tied to someone, so no one else can get to her by means of an arranged marriage."

Sirius sighed deeply and sank even lower in the armchair. A beam of sunshine drew a sharp line across the table between the two men. Remus looked as if he was waiting for something, but it took a while before Sirius noticed.

"What?"

"Haven't you got something to do, Sirius?"

Sirius looked confused.

"Like finding a certain muggle-born witch and convince her to take pity on you."

"Oh, right. You mean now?" Remus nodded. Sirius sighed again and pushed his whiskey glass towards his friend. "One for the road?"

"Please don't. Bring some butterbeers, or, better still, tea."

Sirius grabbed two bottles of Aberforth Dumbledore's brand and headed towards the door.

"Can your werewolf hearing give me some pointers, or should I use Padfoot's nose and smell my way?"

"Third floor parlour. Harry's there too. Tonks has left."

Sirius left the room without a word. On the first set of stairs he glanced at the torn canvas of Phineas Nigellus' portrait. Its inhabitant was still elsewhere.

"You'll love this, Phineas," he mumbled. "I might have to move you to the attic and draw some silencing charms around you."

He continued up the stairs and, for the first time, thought really constructively about the Permanent Sticking Charm that attached his mother's portrait to the wall in the hallway. If the curtains around the portrait weren't closed, she offended everyone who disturbed her, which was just about every time anyone entered or left the house. Even closed, the curtains often opened an inch from the draft from the entrance door opening, which set off a stream of obscenities from her. Especially to the ones she found 'unworthy', which were, just the same, almost everyone. She kept quiet when members of the Weasley family passed, except Arthur who got his earful every time he didn't use the kitchen door. Sometimes Mrs Black tried to be friendly to Tonks, but it always led to reasoning to why Tonks should leave Remus, so Tonks mostly entered the house by apparition. That way she could also avoid the troll-leg umbrella stand Sirius hadn't had the energy to throw out. Sirius hadn't really tried to undo the Permanent Sticking Charm, as he secretly enjoyed being able to contradict and provoke his mother in a way he had never been able to do when she was alive. He had to use a deafening charm on himself though, but he'd become quite good at lip-reading, to give him pointers on what to reply to his mother's ramblings. Mostly he just told her about things he'd done, things no pure-blood wizard with the self-respect of the House of Black would ever do; enjoying a muggle ale and watching pretty muggle girls at a pub were enough to draw that horrified look from her that he marvelled over. In life she'd never given him looks of anything but disgust. Now, if his bachelor status was about to change, he had to get the portrait down. There was no telling which insults the old Mrs Black would feel compelled to throw at the new Mrs Black. And he couldn't let Hermione witness his spiteful joy when he roared all the things he had wanted to roar at his mother twenty-five years earlier. The thought of bringing a muggle-born witch into the family tree brightened his mood considerably. He'd ask Luna Lovegood, who was nimbled-fingered, to repair the family tree tapestry and add the new Mrs Black. Thus, in a slightly better mood, having considered how a marriage to Hermione could go against his family's beliefs, he reached the third floor.


	6. Seeing Hermione in a new light

Hermione sat in the deep windowsill, looking out. Harry stood, his hand resting on her shoulder. They didn't hear Sirius come into the room, and he paused and watched them. He'd love to have Hermione in the family, but as a daughter-in-law married to Harry. That would, of course not, affect his bloodline, nor upset his ancestors, as he hadn't a blood relation to Harry, but he would consider it family ties in his heart. He adored Ginny too, and was confident she'd make Harry very happy, but it had always been something special about Hermione. She'd been the first one, among Harry, Ron and herself, to address him in a friendly manner in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago. He'd been out of his mind from fear of being found by the Dementors, rage towards Pettigrew, shock from meeting Remus and confusion about Harry's uncanny resemblance of James. Hermione's soft voice had penetrated his almost shattered mental protection he had clung to. His only thought had been to kill, and he'd surrounded himself with memories of the Dementors' influence in order to keep that focus. He remembered being ice cold in the draughty shack, a chill that also had reached his heart, fighting against the urge to transform into Padfoot and sink his fangs into the rat. The only thing that would ever warm him again was the flood of Pettigrew's blood gushing over his hands as the same hands tore, ripped and squeezed every last bit of life out of the traitor who'd been on his mind every day for the past twelve years. And then a small, shaky voice broke through the haze in his blood-crazed mind. He'd just been roaring at Pettigrew, barely able to constrain himself when Hermione had spoken. She had said his name. First 'Mr Black', then 'Sirius'. He had not been spoken to like that in more than twelve years at the time, and it wasn't the sound of his name that had knocked him off his frail mental balance. The tone, the friendly tone of her voice had glimpsed on the door to memories he hadn't remembered for as long as he'd been in prison. It seemed a lifetime. The last time anyone had spoken to him in that warm, sweet tone had been the day before his life had literally been blown to pieces by the hands of the rat. He'd been to see James and Lily, played a bit with baby Harry and assured them that they were safe.

_"They'd never go after Peter," he had said. "When they realise you're under a Fidelius Charm, they'll come for me, but I'll be gone too. I have hideouts."_

_ Lily had put his hand around the back of his neck and her forehead against his._

_ "Be careful, Sirius. Be safe. We need you, we want us to build a life together, after this dreadful war."_

The caress of her hand had been his last memory of love before every feeling in his mind had gone painful and as black as his name. The shy voice of Hermione had recalled the love he had felt towards James and his family, like the first warm day in April, sun after a thunderstorm, the first kiss of a lover. It had reminded him of the fact that he was out in the world again, free from the Dementors' heart breaking hissings that played tricks with his mind, it had reminded him that he was a man, a human being of more than the most painful memories of his life.

That was his first ever meeting with the girl the young woman in the windowsill had been. She'd saved his life at the age of thirteen. Would he be able to save hers now, nine years later? He sincerely hoped so.

Sirius cleared his throat. Harry quickly turned to him, while Hermione didn't move at all. There was still some animosity in Harry's eyes.

"Harry, could you give us some privacy, please?" Sirius asked in what he hoped was a civil and reassuring tone.

Harry hesitated, but Hermione shrugged without looking at him.

"Just go, Harry. This is between Sirius and me. You can't change things just because you want to."

Harry leaned towards her and kissed her on the cheek. Sirius saw his hand caress Hermione's neck and frowned. There was something so loving about the gesture. A gesture he had welcomed before but now made him uneasy. For Ginny? Himself?

Harry headed towards the door, but Sirius stopped him.

"You know this isn't my doing, don't you? I didn't have a clue…?"

"Neither had I, but what you said…"

"Harry!" Hermione faced them both. "Leave!"

When Harry closed the door, Hermione turned away again. That damned overgrown garden had rarely been so observed. Sirius slowly approached the window.

"May I…?" He gestured towards the opposite corner of the windowsill.

"Of course. It's your house."

Sirius sat down, watching her.

"Yes, it is. I wish I could give it to someone, anyone. I hate it."

Finally Hermione met his eyes. The earlier shed tears were hardly visible. She looked so much older than the picture of her he had in his mind. She had always been about fifteen before. Not even when she started teaching he had paid attention. He did now. She was so pretty. Her perfect skin, brown eyes and dark golden hair were not a teenager, but a young, beautiful woman. His woman?

"Why?"

"I grew up here. In a blur of pure-blood nonsense and incomprehensible rules. It was not a happy childhood. Pretty much like Harry's at the Dursley's."

"Harry was starved."

"I know. So was I. Going to Hogwarts was the best day of my life."

"To me this house holds happy memories. When we came here that summer seven years ago it was the first time we were treated as adults. By some. By you, at least. And Remus and Mad-Eye. It was like getting allies, besides Dumbledore, and he was always so distant. And when we came back for Christmas, just after Mr Weasley had been attacked, most of the members of the Order looked at us differently. It was as if they finally realized that we had been involved in the war long before anyone acknowledged it had even started."

_Maybe you never were a teenager? That was exactly what I tried to convince Remus about last week, but my concerns then was Harry, not you._

Sirius couldn't really say anything that wouldn't put the limelight on his own bleak view of life. He nodded to her words. He had fought his parents' beliefs for as long as he remembered. It was not until he had gone to Hogwarts and widened his world that he realized that he had fought the dark side, and that there were many others who were prepared to fight with him for a better future. Now the better future had arrived. Or had it?

They sat in silence. Magpies had built a nest in the large oak in the garden. Sirius could see something glitter among the twigs and wondered what it was. Had the window been open, he might have _accioed_ it. Hermione sighed deeply and faced him.

"So?" she said.

Traces of crying were still visible in her brown eyes, but she looked calm and gathered. She was also breathtakingly beautiful. When he'd faced her earlier, Sirius had let go of a self-imposed reservation. He had never allowed himself to look at Hermione, Ginny, Angelina or any of the other young, pretty women with a sexual interest. He knew he would be a fool to pine for someone so young. He knew he shouldn't now, but he couldn't really help it. The blushing, skinny, bushy-haired teenager he had met in the Shrieking Shack had grown into an English rose. Her jeans hugged her thighs and her shirt strained over her chest in her curled up position. He tried to keep his eyes away from the open buttons in her shirt.

_"Kingsley fed Ms Bendel the most explicit story I've ever heard about a secret love affair. Between you and Hermione." _Now it really did spark some images in his mind, mixed with a slight worry about her closeness to Harry.

He swallowed hard and tried to ban those inappropriate thoughts and images from his mind. She had a slightly sad expression, but she often had that, not only when the current administration had suggested she'd marry someone she didn't love. Her resignation went well together with her calmness, and he could relate to that. The fifteen-year-old Hermione in his mind had always been more argumentative, made a point of expressing her opinion in a rather loud way. He realized that he had no idea what went on in her mind now. Her face gave away nothing.

"Hm. Yes, so?"

She studied him inquiringly.

"You had nothing to do with this." It was something between a question and a statement. Sirius threw up his hands, as to surrender.

"No," he said firmly. "I was a shocked as anyone. As you. Handled it badly though. Look, I'm so sorry for what I said…"

"I know. It's OK. Better someone said something. I was to numb to speak. If you'd been the same we'd never start talking again. Tonks explained."

"The insults were really aimed at me, or the idea of the Ministry being match makers."

"Yes, I know. Let's leave that now. What is really going on? Why do they want to pair me up with you? Or you with me?"

Her tone was even, without any extra stress on the pronouns to give any of them a hidden meaning. Sirius thought quickly. He didn't know what was really going on, but he knew more that she did at the moment. And he was not supposed to tell. He decided to play it as safe at possible.

"What do you think Hermione? What are your views?"

She straightened up in her corner of the windowsill. There was a look of determination in her eyes that hadn't been there before. She had indeed a theory and was now about to share it.

"Well, first of all, there is the issue of the pure-bloods. The bloodlines have been too isolated for too long. To keep the magic from the old pure-blood families a change is necessary. Other that marrying muggles, half-bloods and people like me is the obvious answer."

"No more inbreeding, you mean?"

"Those are your words, but yes, if you want to be crude about it." She smiled briefly. "I guess some other matches are as far-fetched as ours, Kingsley only read us the ones concerning the Order." Sirius let his face stay as blank as possible. _No, love, our match is the only far-fetched on the entire list of 200 couples. The only match that would be even worse for you is to let Rodolphus Lestrange marry you and do god knows what to you._ He managed a nod to Hermione's suggestion.

"The second issue," Hermione continued, held up her hands and counted on her fingers, "is of course a whole generation of chronically depressed war veterans who are as young as the soldiers who came back in 1918."

"Who? When?"

"You didn't study Muggle History at Hogwarts, did you? There was a huge war almost a hundred years ago, in the muggle world. The First World War. So many young soldiers died in trenches in France, and those who managed to survive and come back were, more or less, empty shells. Some as bad as Neville's parents."

"The First? Was there a second?"

"Yes, but we're losing focus here. I do see the point of Minister Bendel's suggestion. Our world is decreasing. Minerva has discussed this with me at Hogwarts. We won't have students enough to fill any of the houses in ten years." Her slim-fingered hands gestured wildly.

Sirius hadn't thought that far. It was not an issue that had been discussed at the board of governors at Hogwarts, but now the effect of the low nativity of Magic Britain was glaringly obvious.

"So, even if the Ministry can't order people to have lots and lots of children, this… this… suggestion, or whatever I should call it…"

"This New Deal?"

"Yes, well put, thanks. This New Deal will lead to an increase in nativity and hopefully save our community in the long run, even if only half of the suggested marriages produce children."

"Save? Do you think it is that serious?"

"No. Not yet. I think we would be able to pull ourselves together eventually, given more time, but there is no guarantee. Even if we, and I mean 'we' in general, not you and me, will make an effort to 'act our age' and get married and settled, I think many of us are afraid of having children."

"Because…?"

"Because of the childhood we had ourselves," Hermione said quietly, drew her hand back, folded them around her knees and looked out the window again. "When I think about having children, or think about how I used to think about having children, it's a beautiful fantasy of being there for them, loving them, teaching them, talking to them, but I can't really see that happen because I don't know how to do that. I haven't had anyone showing me. My parents and I grew rather distant when I went to Hogwarts, and other parental characters couldn't really fill that hole. Dumbledore? He spoke to me maybe twice a year. Remus? He only stayed at Hogwarts for a year. Molly and Arthur have been wonderful, but Molly's wish that I end up with any of her sons, even Charlie, is rather unnerving. You? You died."

There was silence again. The sun started to set and shone through the branches of the oak. Hermione shrugged and faced Sirius again.

"But if we stop talking in general and focus on us, I guess we are a good match."

Sirius could feel his blood leaving his face and make him dizzy. The sun in her hair surrounded her face with golden light.

"I mean from the Ministry's point of view. Let's be frank; you are the only pure-blood left in the House of Black. Tonks' father is a muggle, which probably is good for Teddy, he's as far from a squib as anyone can be. And the House of Black was once large and very important. Of course the Social Welfare department has taken that into consideration."

_No, sweetie, they hadn't,_ Sirius thought.

"But to pair you up with me seems a little unfair to you," Hermione continued. "Haven't you got anyone you at least love a little that you'd like to marry to keep the Ministry happy and off your back?"

So typical Hermione, to think of others, of him, rather that herself. He couldn't really make heads or tails of how she thought with the information she had and the concern she showed others. She had no idea that their match was a plan to keep her safe, and he couldn't tell her.

"No. No, I don't. You know I rarely leave this house. And of course it wouldn't be unfair to me to make you the new Mrs Black. You are, as Kingsley said 'a blessing to our world', and more. You are bright, compassionate, talented beyond most witches, and beautiful."

She blushed and he continued.

"I've known you for years, if it hadn't been for you Harry would have been dead, Voldemort would have reigned. My guess is that the Ms Bendel is as interested in your bloodlines as she is in mine. It's cruel though to match you with this old, half-mad man."

Hermione reached out her hand and put her fingers on his lips to stop him from continuing trashing himself verbally. Her fingers were as soft as he had thought, and smelled of soap.

"Don't. Tonks told me what you had meant with your crude words before. You're being unfair to yourself." She let her cool fingers graze his cheekbone. "And you're not old. I don't see you that way."

"You talked about parental characters before. About me."

"Well, I grew up, didn't I?"

Sirius took her fingers in his and kissed them softly.

"You did indeed. So, if I understand you correctly, you are not absolutely against this idea. To go along with the Ministry's New Deal?"

"Kingsley said he didn't know what would come next. What would happen if we refused, I mean. That scared me a bit, Kingsley is rarely that uncertain. And when he started reading the suggested couples I almost panicked. I knew there wasn't a match like Harry and Ginny's for me. I was afraid I'd be suggested to marry someone I barely knew."

Sirius swallowed the truth that was threatening to spill. Hermione didn't notice as she went on.

"And if you are sure you don't mind marrying me on paper on the Ministry's registry-office, and that will keep Ms Bendel and her department happy, I'll go along with it."

"A marriage of convenience to keep the Ministry happy? Is that really what you want, Hermione?"

Tears rose in her eyes. He stood up and drew her into his arms. Her breathing was uneven from restrained crying. He stroked her back and shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. Her hands were balled up in small, white-knuckled fists, and he took them into his large hand. After a few minutes Hermione's breathing evened out and her hands rested relaxed in his.

"Is it?" he pressed on.

She snivelled and sighed, but kept her head close to his chest.

"I don't know. Well, of course it isn't. I wish I had someone who loved me like Harry loves Ginny or like George loves Angelina. I wish you had someone who loves you like that, so you wouldn't be so indifferent to committing to me to keep the Ministry happy. I wish I were pretty enough to compete with Lavender. I wish…"

She ran out of breath and silence settled again.

Pretty enough to compete with Lavender? Sirius repeated to himself and felt utterly sad. For her? For himself? He thought it best not to try to reason with her at the moment. He felt her relax and grow limp in his arms.

"Hermione? Sweetie? Don't fall asleep on me now."

She startled and looked up at him. He realized she was the only woman he'd ever met who was beautiful even when she cried. He took her face between his hands and met her tired eyes.

"Now, love, listen. I haven't got a clue either what the Social Welfare department will come up with if their plan backfires. We may not be a match made in heaven like some of our friends, but I do adore you for so many reasons, and I'm more than willing to go along with this. I wouldn't want you to be exiled to Victor Krum or on the road with Oliver Wood. If signing a piece of paper at the registry-office is all what it takes, and by doing so maybe set a good example for others, just show me the dotted line. Neither of us is perhaps as easy to pair up with a soul-mate as Harry, but I do love spending time with you. If or when you find someone you really love I promise I'll give you the smoothest divorce in history. And I promise I'll never force myself on you to claim any marital rights. Let's blame the Dementors and my temporary death for the lack of children. Besides that I'll rather enjoy bringing you into the family tree, just to see the look on my mother's face in her portrait. After that you might help me getting it down."

His ramblings had effect; she smiled. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. A sharp intake of air made him hesitate. Was she appalled by his intimacy? He withdrew, but she still smiled.

"Thank you, Sirius." She looked at him, and he found it difficult to hold the gaze from those warm, brown eyes.

Someone knocked on the door, but neither of them moved. When there came a second knock, Sirius absent-mindedly said "Yes?" but without taking his eyes from Hermione.

Kingsley entered the room.

"Sirius. Hermione," he greeted them, but it took the pair a few seconds longer than was expected to respond. Kingsley approached them.

"Are you OK? I'm sorry to spring this news on you, there wasn't really time to…"

"We're OK, Kingsley," Sirius interrupted. "We both understand the bigger picture and that old, dreadful saying 'for the good of the greater good.' The question is how to make the others come to terms with the idea."

"Don't worry about them. I've been very clear about this being an issue for you two to deal with, and for others to accept. No one will question your decision, whatever it might be." He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"We'll follow Minister Bendel's suggestion. Kingsley, meet the new Mrs Black to be."


	7. To the Ministry

They entered the Ministry through the visitors' entrance, pressed against each other in the sinking telephone box. The morning rush hours had passed, and Sirius and Hermione made their way to the Department of Social Welfare on the fourth floor. They were to meet an administrator from the registry-office and get a marriage license. After that, their impending marriage would be announced in The Daily Prophet, to give people time to react and object. Sirius was a bit offended by the thought of anyone objecting, and that it would matter in any way, when he suspected Hermione was the one with the largest objections and reservations. The previous evening they had told the rest of the Order that they would humour the Ministry and follow their advice. He also referred to Kingsley's uncertainty about what a next step would include, if they were to refuse. He hinted at the risk of new suggestions wouldn't be suggestions, but commands.

Hermione would still stay at Hogwarts during terms, like the rest of the teaching faculty, but her registered address would be Grimmauld Place. It would just be a piece of parchment, he had assured their friends. Somehow no one, not even Molly Weasley had argued. Kingsley's openness about being cornered by Minister Bendel, and worry about what would happen if too many suggested couples refused, had put the members of the Order in the same attentive, almost suspicious mood as at the beginning of the War. Was something new and dark stirring below the surface again? If so, better stick together. Some of the lethargy and depression that had plagued so many of them since the end of the War had lifted. Sirius had given Harry the box of jewellery he'd brought from Gringott's, to pick out an engagement ring to Ginny and she'd stopped by Grimmauld Place on her way to practice the same morning to show Sirius a white gold ring with a sprinkle of small diamonds.

"Please, come in," a young wizard welcomed them. He was in his early thirties and reminded Sirius of Percy Weasley. They seemed to share the same law-abiding calling, and an almost unnatural effectiveness. His name was Jon Eckhart and he invited them to sit in the visitors' chairs in front of his extremely well organized desk. He opened a large book bound in shiny black leather.

"Black and Granger. Let's see." He hummed to himself while browsing the pages. "Yes, here you are. Oh!" He seemed lost. Sirius ground his teeth. _Don't let Hermione in on who was there before. I'll tell her, I will, but not yet._ He chanced a glance at Hermione. She sat straight up in her chair, tense and pale. Sirius realized they ought to act as a couple that really wanted to get married and took her hand in his.

"Mr Black, I'm sorry, but because of some bug in our information flow I need to ask you to wait while I collect your file from… well…"

"From the civil register of deceased, you mean?" Sirius finished for him and the young wizard blushed.

"Yes, I'm sorry, we're still trying to organize the registers from after the War, and after the change of…"

"We don't mind," Sirius interrupted him, terrified Eckhart was about to reveal the change in the marital registers and not just Sirius own less than well organized status of alive, dead, convicted or wanted. "We'll wait here for you."

Once Eckhart had left them Hermione faced Sirius. She didn't let go of his hand but she raised their intertwined fingers and gave him a curious look.

"What's with the handholding?"

"Um, I thought it nice to boost the confidence of the administration. They obviously think we'd be good together. Do you mind?"

She shook her head and smiled.

"No, not at all, but I'd like to stretch my legs." She rose from the chair and went over to the window. It was another sunny day outside and in the sunshine she was radiant. She wore a yellow summer dress, a white cardigan and high-heeled white sandals. Her hair was swept away from her face with tiny pearl covered hair slides. Sirius had rarely seen her like that. When they met socially she wore casual clothes, jeans, a blouse or a tank top and, sometimes a sweater or bulky cardigan. When she came directly from Hogwarts she had her teaching outfit of a black suit and cloak. In the sunlight she was like an advertisement for perfume, shampoo or skincare. The sunlight also made her dress partially transparent and confirmed what Sirius had had at the back of his head for years: Her figure wasn't that of a gawky teenager any more, but curvy and slim in all the right places. He needed to keep thoughts like that at bay and stood up in order to stop his gaze from sweeping along those long, toned legs at his eye-level. He went over to the window. It overlooked one of London's smaller parks and he could make out tiny children climbing the frames at the playground. He wondered if Hermione too watched the children, and, if so, what she thought about.

The walls of Eckhart's office were glass on three sides. Frosted on the lower half and clear on the upper half. He could see into many other offices where clerks were busy with whatever they kept busy with at the Ministry. The wall with the entrance door faced an open area, and out of the corner of his eye Sirius saw a familiar figure. It was Minister Bendel herself. Tall, thin, dark haired. Once a beauty, but now a little stooped, as if years of being taller than almost everyone had made her stay in that within earshot, bent posture. She was the one Kingsley had convinced there was a real love story between him and Hermione. He thought quickly and grabbed Hermione around the waist. Over her shoulder he could see the minister looking straight at him.

"Hermione, please trust me and forgive me for what I'm about to do," he murmured and pressed his lips to hers. He slanted his head to be able to see Ms Bendel through Hermione's tresses of golden hair. The minister still looked at them and now she smiled.

At first Hermione was stiff as a board, and Sirius buried his hand in her hair and stroked the back of her neck. He let his other hand spread across the small of her back and pressed her against him. Her lips were still, but softer than he could ever have imagined and just because he couldn't help it, he kissed her properly and caressed her lips with his. He'd thought he'd been clever and was in full control of the situation. Yes, he would have to explain to Hermione, and spill the secret Remus wanted him to keep a bit longer, but the content smile on the Minister's face was something he had conjured. No magic, just some acting. But Hermione's warm skin under his hand and her soft, soft lips against his made his head spin and he started to forget the fact that he was acting. And when he felt her lips move against his, he was truly lost. He closed his eyes and forgot all about the minister's probing observation. Hermione tasted tea, peaches and the scent he sometimes picked up if they met early in the morning, a scent of slept-in linen sheets. His hand on her back pressed her harder against him and she followed willingly. He could feel her breasts against his chest and he knew, but didn't care, that she could feel his arousal through his damned tight trousers. Her hands went to his neck, and they felt warmer than the sunshine from the window. He didn't care they were about to enter an arranged marriage, that he feared Hermione thought him too old, that he himself thought him too old, that all of their friends were convinced it would just be a piece of paper. He was here and now with this beautiful young and willing woman in his arms, and he didn't care about anything else.

Someone cleared his throat and Sirius reluctantly came back to another here and now.

"I'm sorry it took so long," Eckhart excused himself. "Please, let's continue." He seemed totally unfazed by walking in on their heated kiss.

Sirius didn't let go of Hermione's waist as they made their way back to the visitors' chairs. He sat down and pulled her into his lap. She didn't object and weaved her fingers with his.

"Everything seems to be in order. Here is the license; just sign and we'll owl the news to The Daily Prophet. If nothing unexpected happens, you can come back in three days, meet Minister Bendel and be properly married. Any questions?"

Sirius signed the piece of parchment, gave the pen to Hermione and prayed she wouldn't have any questions that could jeopardize the illusions he tried to pull off. He was wrong.

"Yes, I do have a question. What kind of objections could you expect? What is the point of the banns in the paper?"

Eckhart coughed.

"Well, I'm sure there won't be any problems. Sometimes, but very rarely, a previous marriage is unearthed, but you are both well-known in our community and we would have known if any of you were married before."

"All right. I also wonder about the legal strength of an arranged civil marriage. Is it correct to assume that no one, except Sirius or I, can make our marriage invalid, by means of divorce?"

The young wizard looked utterly confused behind his large desk.

"I don't really understand your question, Ms Granger. Why would anyone…?"

"Well, if an old fiancé, or someone claiming to be and old fiancé, showed up. Or if it turns out we, Sirius and I, can't have children."

"A former partner, whoever he or she may be can in no way effect the binding contact of your marriage, once you are married. And as for children… Isn't that a bit early to worry about? Or do you have any particular reason to worry, Ms Granger?"

Hermione hesitated, and Sirius could feel a sweat break out on her back. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

"During the war I was tortured. For a rather long period of time. I don't know what that did to my body. And, as Sirius is concerned, he's been tortured too, for a considerably longer period of time. In Azkaban. And then, as you know, thought dead for two years, until the end of the war. What if we… Well, what if nature doesn't really see us fit for parenthood?"

Eckhart leaned forward in his chair and smiled reassuringly.

"Ms Granger, Mr Black. Your marriage is about the two of you. I do hope you'll have children, I have two myself and they are a blessing, but lack of children would in no way make your marriage invalid."

Hermione beamed and squeezed Sirius hand.

"Thank you so much for your time Mr Eckhart. We'll see ourselves out. Come on, darling."

She bounced up from Sirius lap and headed for the door, still with his hand in a firm grip.

A quarter of an hour later they were back on the busy London street. Hermione gave him a serious look with a hint of anger.

"Well, come on, darling." She stressed the endearment and made it into something completely different. "I want an early lunch and a glass of wine. You want, of course, the same and you will, by Merlin, give me some answers. I know enough of the Ministry not to cause a scene there, and I rather play along with your than them, but I'll swear I'll make you painfully and permanently sterile if you don't tell me. And I'll do the same to Remus, however much it would pain me to hex the joy out of Tonks' and his married life. I know he knows. Why on earth would Tonks have come to me yesterday advertising the bliss of married life to a Marauder, if he, or you for that matter, hadn't sent her. There's the National Gallery. Let's eat and talk there."

She hadn't let go of his hand, but her grip was vicelike and painful.

On their way across Trafalgar Square, Sirius thought about the new sides of Hermione that unfolded before him. He knew, he had known since he first met her that she was a brilliant witch. He'd never questioned Remus's opinion on that. But he hadn't paid attention to her other than as Harry's closest friend. He'd always felt protective about her, maybe more than about Harry, and maybe because she was a girl. Since the end of the war, when he came back, she'd seemed several levels more low-key than before, and that might have been a reason he hadn't paid attention. He hadn't felt close enough to ask her. Not close enough to care, when he saw Harry, Ginny and Mrs Weasley fussing enough to draw irritated sighs from her at times. But now? He cared. Did he have to worry? Feel protective, to a larger extent than their impending, legally binding sham wedding? She was as quick-witted as he, but intelligent enough to keep things to herself, and not rage or loudly questioning everything. How could she have seen right through him just now? And what now? Into how many lies would her questions trap him?

He almost wished he hadn't kissed her, since the traces of her fruity scent still invaded his acute nose and distracted him to no end.


	8. A War Memory

"Hermione…" Sirius said for the third time.

They sat opposite each other in a corner of the old restaurant. A waiter had taken their orders and brought a bottle of Chablis. Hermione had emptied half a glass at once, but hadn't said a word, except silencing him when her tried to talk. She did so again. She watched him with the same anger simmering under the features of her face. Uneasy he held her gaze. When their food came she relaxed a little.

"This is not what it seems, is it?" she said.

He shook his head slightly.

"Are you going to answer my questions, or do I need to whiz up something in my Potions classroom?"

"I'll answer. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but Remus and Kingsley…"

"Don't blame them. You are a grown man. And I'm not asking them, I'm asking you." With unnecessary force, she spiked a piece of chicken on her fork.

"This is about the pure-bloods, right?"

He nodded.

"It's just not about you, and your pure blood-status, is it?"

He shook his head.

"So, then it's about me."

_ No. No more lies. Here we go. Fuck you Remus. A marriage of convenience where one of the parties doesn't even know the reasons? Hell no._

He ventured a low "Yes."

"But I've always been the least troublemaking of Harry, Ron and myself. Apart from tricking Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, and she was fired from the Ministry after that, Harry or Ron always took the blame. Why would the Ministry care about my marital status? I don't have ancestry like you, there are no prophesies about me, and no dark wizard has ever made it their mission to kill me, like Voldemort went after Harry."

She was angry and agitated, and almost rambling, but Sirius' field of sight shrank to only see her face when she came so close to the truth.

"Well…" he began, only to be met by her hand to stop him from talking. It was her right hand, with her knife between her fingers, and he thought it best to obey. She spoke enough for both of them.

"And bringing you, kicking and screaming I presume, from the registers of deceased into this little charade doesn't make sense. You weren't among the arranged marriages originally, were you?"

"No."

"And I'm not a pure-blood. Then tell me, what are you hiding? Why are you prepared to go through with something you, admittedly, do well enough to fool that prat Eckhart, but I know you don't really want to?" She was prepared to listen now.

"First of all, I do want to go through with this, but not for the reasons I should. Or the reasons the Ministry wants. Secondly, you shouldn't disrespect yourself the way you do. Harry might be a larger person in the media, but everyone knows your part in those last days of the war. You were, and you are important and precious to our community. The Order, Hogwarts and the rest of the magic population of Britain. Finally, this New Deal has a backside, we just can't see it yet. You said yesterday that our match probably isn't the only far-fetched one, but it is. But only because the first suggestion was even worse and perhaps a clue to the real purpose of it all."

"So, who was it?"

Sirius swallowed hard, cursed Remus and Kingsley for bringing him into this, and then he blessed them for doing just that. He would keep Hermione from the grips of his demented cousin's widower, finally he would do something substantial, something that really mattered. And the safety of the young woman opposite him mattered to him. He slid along the built-in seat in the corner, so he came to sit next to her, and took her hands in his. His hesitation and closeness made her nervous.

"Lestrange."

"What? Who?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange was paired up with you." He filled her in on the blurry, written curse, Remus' suggestion to replace Lestrange with Sirius and the way Kingsley had invented a love story to get the Minister to change Hermione's suggested spouse. He spoke quickly, as if he only had the smallest amount of time to say as much as possible. An unpronounced fear at the back of his mind told him to be as honest as possible before Hermione… broke down? understood the full extent of what might have happened? stabbed him with her table knife? apparated away?

She sat very still. All colours had drained from her face. She eyes were directed towards her empty wine glass, but she didn't seem to see it. Sirius had expected a more agitated mood, a flood of questions he wouldn't have been able to answer. She seemed totally lost in herself, totally unaware of where she was. Her hands grew cold in his, and when he stroked her forearm he felt her skin sprinkled with goose bumps. When she finally faced him, her eyes were black with fear. Sirius knew little enough about Lestrange and he'd believed Hermione knew even less, apart from Lestrange being one of the Death Eaters close to Voldemort and having an unhealthy passion for torture. Hermione's behaviour hinted at more.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled in a small voice.

Sirius pulled her from her chair and headed towards the restrooms at the back of the restaurants. He followed her into a small booth and held her while she threw up. Cold sweat trickled her temples and darkened her hair. When she turned around in his embrace she shook violently, and he held her as hard as he dared, while whispering soft, idle words to her. He could still feel her scent of peaches through the vile odour of vomit. There was very little he could do for her, locked into the small cubicle with the small witch in a full-blown panic attack in his arms, but somehow he felt that this was indeed where he should be, and that he did do something that mattered. After a few minutes he felt her relax, but when he loosened his grip she tensed up again.

"Don't," she whispered hoarsely. "And take me home."

A little bewildered by what was 'home' to Hermione, he closed his eyes and thought of the library of Grimmauld Place. A second later the booth was empty.

"Kreacher," Sirius said the second the house elf arrived at his command. "A glass of water, please." He chanced a glance at the almost trace-like Hermione. "No, tea. And a blanket. There is a grey one in my room. And get me the silver box from my bathroom cabinet."

Sirius looked at her again. She had gone directly to the couch and curled up with her chin resting on her knees. Her shoulders were tense and almost level with her ears. Her body language screamed 'Don't touch me!' but he didn't care. He sat down beside her and tilted the small bundle of her towards him. Her skin was cold and clammy, and her breathing shallow. He pulled out his wand and _accioed_ a bottle of muggle vodka from the liquor cabinet. Hermione didn't flinch when the bottle hit the table in front of them rather hard and threatened to tumble over. Waiting for the tea, he pondered his situation, or their situation.

He felt a flutter of determined energy run through him. Something he hadn't felt since his days at Hogwarts or the first war. In his first life, before Azkaban. His second, short life had been restricted in so many ways: first on the run for a year, and then hidden in this house for another. When he came back from the two blank years behind the veil, he had faced a decimated group of war-weary friends, grateful for the victory, but exhausted and grieving. He'd felt shame for not being there for them, and was pulled down in his own despair of grieving. In the course of his first evening, at a partially destroyed Hogwarts, he had to come to terms with the death of Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, Alastor Moody, Ted Tonks, Charity Burbage and Severus Snape. When Harry had told him about Snape being a double spy, Sirius had cried. He'd remembered being adolescently mean to Severus when the Order had resurrected, a whole year before Minister Fudge had acknowledged Voldemort's return. He had realized Dumbledore's vouching for Severus had been genuine, but something about his black gaze and constant frown of disdain had provoked Sirius to no end. Harry had cried too, but they had finally come to the conclusion that Severus' only love had ever been Lily, and what he did for Dumbledore was the outcome of that love, never more, never real concern about Harry and his friends, Dumbledore or anyone else. Severus own war against Voldemort had only had one victim. Lily.

But now, when dark forces seemed to whisper from the back of the stage, Sirius realized he was neither imprisoned, wanted by the authorities or dead. He had been reinstated among the living in every official registers, he'd been pardoned and presented with an Order of Merlin. He was free to act and to fight if it came to that. The anxiety-ridden witch in his arms mattered to him, more that he ever would have imagined. He could no longer deny that he cared about her, beyond regular loyalty towards another Order member. How could he not have cared, or even noticed her before? How could she, who had saved his life once, have grown up without him paying attention? Without her evil might have reigned the magic population of Britain. And she was pretty, oh so pretty. And had such soft, soft lips…

When Kreacher arrived, Sirius stirred four lumps of sugar in her tea and added a splash of milk and vodka. She frowned.

"I don't like sugar in my tea," she said weakly.

"You do today. Drink," he grumbled and wrapped the blanket around her stiff shoulders.

He watched her carefully as she sipped the tea, and spiked his own with a generous slosh of the liquor. Her hands were still shaking when she put down the empty cup, and her face started to take on that greenish tinge of nausea again. He reached for the silver box Kreacher had fetched and took out a small vial. Its content had the colour of the Mediterranean Sea, bright blue with glittering reflections of the sun.

He uncorked it and handed it to her. She watched it without interest.

"It will take the edge of your anxiety."

"It doesn't look like a pick-me-up potion."

"Well, it isn't. Technically. I found the recipe when I cleared out Regulus' room. It has a lot in common with Felix Felicis, but better for how you're feeling now. Trust me."

She gave him a tired look, as if she wanted to ask him how he could even imagine how she felt. He didn't, of course, but confided in her.

"I've found it helps after nightmares. I still sometimes wake up at three in the morning with the hissings of Azkaban's dementors in my mind, and I can think of a lot of nicer bed companions than them."

A glimpse of interest or compassion flickered in her eyes.

"Is it quick?"

"Very."

She downed it in one gulp, clenched the empty vial in her hand and put her forehead against her knees, a little ball of tense muscles. Sirius rubbed her back soothingly and counted seconds. He knew the time span exactly, from years of occasional use. The almost cramping muscles in her back grew softer, and she took deep breaths. She tilted her face to meet his eyes. Her lips were no longer white and her soft skin had its usual pale but healthy, creamy colour. She looked slightly embarrassed but ventured a small smile.

"Thank you. I'd like to see that recipe some day." She wriggled her toes in her open toe sandals and reached down to undo the buckle. It proved impossible with the vial still in her hand, and Sirius pulled her feet into his lap and undid the tiny fastening straps. Thus, she faced him properly. He placed his hands on her slim ankles and searched her eyes. Her feet were cold, but grew warmer in his hands. Reluctantly she met his gaze.

"Now. Tell me."

She swallowed hard and shook her head.

"Please, Hermione."

He saw that his words would have sent her into another panic attack, if she hadn't taken his brother's unknown potion, but he pressed on.

"Yesterday Remus said that some old Death Eaters think it was you who killed Bellatrix and that would explain this conspiracy. But it was Molly, wasn't it? You saw her, didn't you?"

She mumbled something he didn't catch, and he asked her to repeat it.

"I wish I had killed him. I tried."

"Rodolphus?"

She nodded.

"So, you've met him?"

She nodded again. He repeated his plea.

"Honey, please tell me."

She looked everywhere in the room, except at him. Then she sighed and closed her eyes. After a minute of silence, she let the blanket slide from her shoulders and shimmied out of the white cardigan. Sirius abided, slightly confused. She leaned towards him and held out her left arm. The soft skin on the inside of her upper arm was scarred with the word 'Mudblood.'

"Lestrange?" Sirius asked softly, but she shook her head.

"Bellatrix." She swallowed hard again and fiddled with the empty vial. Sirius stroke the marred skin with the pad of his thumb, but found no words.

"When we… When Harry, Ron and I were searching for the Horcruxes we were…" She broke off and straightened up. "I'm sorry Sirius, but I need some space if I'm going to tell you. You'll need it too," she concluded in a whisper. She pulled her feet out of his lap and thus broke all physical contact with him.

"You've asked me trust you twice today, and I will trust you now. Because I'm afraid, and I can't marry you, even if it's only technically, unless you know. And it might shed some light on why Les…" Her voice broke. "Why he's come out of the shadows in this New Deal."

Sirius nodded and wanted desperately to pull her to him. His fingers ached from the lack of contact with her.

"We were caught by snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor. Harry and Ron were locked in the dungeons with Luna and Mr Ollivander. Bellatrix kept me though. She carved what she found appropriate into my skin. I screamed, and that seemed to give her an idea. You could almost see the light bulb light up in her mind. She… Well, she called Les… She called her husband, giggled giddily and said she had something for him. A screamer. Me."

Sirius understood where her story was heading and swallowed the taste of bile in the back of his throat.

"Evidently, he liked women who screamed, and he… Well, he stripped me, and beat me." She took another deep breath. "And raped me. Somehow I caught a glimpse of his wand in the inside pocket of his jacket, snatched it and hexed him. I aimed for his… Well, I must have missed because he just hit me hard enough to break my jaw and… continued. Several times. Until I lost my voice. And my…" She reached for the vodka, poured it shakily into her teacup and drank.

"Afterwards… I don't really know. Bellatrix dragged me back to the room where she'd been holding me before, threw my clothes at me and decided she wanted to 'decorate' my body some more. Like a mad tattoo artist on crack. Then Harry and the others appeared, with the help of that sweet little elf, and we apparated to Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur's place, you know." She was trying to distract him, to get as far away from the subject as possible, and he complied and nodded.

"Yes, I know."

They sat in silence, and Sirius reached for her hand. She flinched, but he held a firm grip around her fingers.

"I'm not him," he said when she stopped fidgeting.

"I know, but I'm revolting. I've felt befouled ever since. I can never be anything to anyone. I've tried, I've been with Ron, with Victor and Oliver, but I've always felt I've tainted them. And I have, of course, been a total disappointment to them. Harry is the only man who can touch me without bringing me back to that room. Somehow I think he knows, but I don't know how and we've never talked about it. But later he was different with me. Still close, but more… tender perhaps. Or worried."

Sirius attention picked up when she said this. He'd always been curious about whether Harry and Hermione ever had been close, intimate. Now he banned those thoughts from his mind and focused on Hermione.

"You said you trust me," he said. Do I…? Does my touch take you back to Les… that room?"

She shook her head.

"Actually no, but I feel like a contagious disease, tainting everyone who touches me." She tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but he retorted with pulling her close.

"Don't you ever say so again, sweetie. You can't take the blame for his crime. I wish I'd been there. I would have killed him. And Bellatrix."

Tentatively she rested her head against his chest, and he encircled her with his arms, breathing deep into her hair and kissing her temple.

"Did you ever tell anyone? Harry? Ginny?"

"I told Luna. She could see something had happened. Asked about nargles."

"What are nargels?"

"No idea. Some creature she and her father believe in. I think it's a negative thing, she asked if I'd been infested with nargles when we shared a room at Bill and Fleur's and I just broke down and told her. Luna is special. She's not a hothead like Ginny, or obsessed with honour like Ron or Harry. She took my story for what is was, except that she added the influence of creatures and forces I've never heard of and sincerely doubt exist. But she saw that I was hurting and she predicted it would pass. She grew up in a world of conspiracies. She wasn't shocked, even surprised that something bad, something ghastly had happened to me. She is so much here and now, she doesn't live in neither the past or the future. It's admirable."

Sirius stayed silent. He wanted to assure her that nothing she had said had changed the way he saw her, the way he felt about her, but, somehow, he felt she was still telling him her story, and he shouldn't steer her off track. She didn't continue though, and he asked quietly.

"Anyone else?"

"Yes. Poppy. Madame Pomfrey. I went to her the day after the Battle of Hogwarts, after you had returned. I was terrified he'd made me pregnant, and maybe he had, I bled for weeks, but Poppy calmed me and… Well, healed me. She was horrified and offered to obliviate my memory, but for some reason I didn't want to. Ron and I had finally… got together, and I was too terrified to loose that. And I also thought that if she were to oblivate me, I would not recognize Les… Lestrange for what he was if I ever met him again. Now I regret that. I wish she'd taken away a week's worth of memories and allowed me to… live."

After a minute's silence Sirius spoke.

"Would you like me to take those memories away from you? I used to be pretty good with memory charms."

She sobbed into his chest.

"No, it wouldn't work. The memory of him has spread too much. There hasn't been a day since his… Since his abuse that hasn't been tainted with the memory of… I thought about it at Teddy's first birthday, at Ginny's World Cup match, when Harry was appointed Head Auror, during Christmas here. I wouldn't want to loose all those memories too. You'd end up with an adrenaline-stuffed 17-year old at you hands, paranoid and with her whole life in a tiny bead-embroidered handbag, and I'm not that person any more. Everyone expects me to be this half-person, most often quiet, sometimes chatty when I've been drinking or within a very small group of friends. I'm not so different from some of the others. The war, our losses, the price we all had to pay. Many of us are a mess, emotionally."

"You're every bit that courageous 17-year-old, and the even younger witch who saved my life on the back of Buckbeak. And you are the most compassionate woman I know. Remus was right when he taught at Hogwarts. You are the brightest witch of your age, and I'll be damned if I can't make you see that. But most importantly, let's go through with this marriage. I need you to be safe, no matter what lies we'll have to come up with. I told Remus yesterday I'll take you to the west coast of Ireland, and I'm still prepared to do that. Or anywhere else in the world." He tugged her hair softly.

"No," she mumbled, and Sirius wondered which of his statements she objected to.

"No to what, love?"

"To leave London, leave England. We can't do that if… well, when we don't know what is going on. Could you live with yourself in another country and not knowing about Harry and Remus? Tonks and Teddy? Kingsley?"

"Of course not. But I wouldn't want you in the line of fire."

"I've been there before. You have too."

"But you weren't a target before."

She shuddered.

A knock on the door startled them. Remus' voice called for them.

"Yes, in here," Sirius said, and his oldest, living friend came into view. He watched the pair on the couch with some surprise, but didn't say anything.

"Remus, please sit. There is some fire whiskey in the cabinet if you don't want vodka."

"I'm fine without. Molly's come over with food and most of her family. Dinner in five minutes. Where have you been all day? We thought the visit to the Ministry would take an hour, tops."

"Oh, we've been there, and here. We have some news for you." Sirius could feel Hermione tense up against him, and he rubbed her back reassuringly. He would never betray her confidence.

"Via Phineas Nigellus' portrait actually," he lied. "Apparently he has another portrait at the Lestrange castle and had to listen to Rodolphus' rage for hours on end. Lestrange is very upset about the switch in the marital registers, so you must have been right yesterday. The rumour that Hermione killed Bellatrix is what has sent him on this path of revenge. Since we stopped it early, we'll never know how he would have forced Hermione to agree, but as long as we thwarted his plans I don't really care."

**OK, dear readers, that's it for tonight. Drop me a line, review or PM and I'll reward you tomorrow with a new chapter. What's the best line in the dialogue? Best twist or turn of the plot?**

**Kia**


	9. Watching, wondering and asking

**Thank you for your feedback. Truly appreciated. Here is tonight's chapter.**

Before leaving the library Sirius assured Hermione he'd give an official and plausible version of why they had decided to go through with the Ministry's New Deal. Still a bit under the influence of the soothing potion, she agreed to let him do the talking.

The kitchen was busy with dinner preparations and discussions. Sirius stood by the fireplace pondering how to phrase himself during the Order meeting. Hermione went to help with laying the table. When she'd set the long table with as many plates she could fit in, she gave Sirius a quick glance, but looked away quickly, slightly blushing. Sirius kept watching her, though. She seemed lost in thoughts and he searched for signs of anxiety or more sadness than usual. When Molly Weasley approached the table, Hermione was in her way but didn't hear when she was asked to move. Out of nowhere Harry grabbed her around the waist from behind and drew her out of the way. Sirius watched them. Hermione relaxed into Harry's embrace and put her hands on his, which still lay around her waist. They looked so comfortable together. Sirius saw Harry saying something with his mouth close to her ear. He couldn't hear the words but he could decipher quite a lot from reading Harry's lips.

"…wish you didn't have to… I could change things… She'd understand… She knows I love you too…"

Sirius swallowed and watched, mesmerized how Harry's hands wandered along Hermione's ribcage, a bare inch from her breasts. There were so many people around them. Didn't anyone notice? Where was Ginny?

As an answer to his quiet question the youngest Weasley came around the corner and went straight at her fiancé. She didn't seem alarmed that he had another woman in his arms.

"Keep that green-eyed monster under control, cousin," someone murmured. Reluctantly he turned to face Tonks and stammered.

"I… I… I wasn't… I'm not… What do you mean?"

She looked amused and pointed discretely at the young trio at the other side of the room.

"Smoke is coming out of your ears, Sirius. It's only Harry. Calm down. And she's not your wife yet."

She looked questioningly at him.

"What do you mean, 'only Harry'? What's going on between them? This is uncomfortable as it is, without me getting between… well, whoever who's with who."

"You're not getting between anyone. Harry's with Ginny, as he's been the last five years. And Hermione and Harry are as they've always been. Close, but not like that. He's the only one she's affectionate with, haven't you noticed before? Or rather, why haven't you noticed before?"

Hermione's words from earlier that day came back to him. _Harry is the only man who can touch me without bringing me back to that room. _Sirius suddenly felt very curious on why it was so. He knew he shouldn't, that it was none of his business, but none the less he did. He smiled sheepishly at his cousin. He knew she didn't have a judgemental bone in her body.

"No, I haven't noticed before. I haven't noticed her before. Not like that."

"And now you do?"

"Maybe. But I'm in the wrong. This is political, this is…" He was suddenly unsure about how much Remus had told Tonks, but Tonks finished his sentence.

"…this is about protection and Lestrange, but it's also about you and Hermione. Harry will always have a place in her heart, but right now you have a role to play, that no one else can. He's not a pure blood and he's not half as skilled as you in understanding Lestrange and his lot. You know, and I know, better than we would like, the way that part of the family tree grows."

Sirius only muttered something under his breath.

No one questioned Sirius' version of his and Hermione's marriage license. The cat Lestrange was out of the bag, but his motive was Hermione's alleged killing of Bellatrix. Sirius made the impression that he and his ancestor Phineas Nigellus were on good terms and improvised what Phineas had said after visiting the Lestrange castle. He made a mental note to check where portraits of his great-great-grandfather actually hung. It would be very inconvenient if Phineas really had a portrait in the midst of that branch of the Black family tree. And he kept quiet about trying to stab Phineas with a pocketknife the day before.

Kingsley was grave and urged everyone to be careful, get their marriage licenses as soon as possible, don't fuss with any big ceremonies, but just keep the members of the Order as safe as possible. The atmosphere was similar to when Voldemort had risen seven years before, even darker in that respect that they didn't really know who was behind the new threat and what the new threat really was. War veterans as they were though, they could all feel that something was up. Was wrong. It felt like it did before.

"Harry, would you mind having a drink with me? In my study?" Sirius asked his godson later.

Harry shrugged and followed him.

"Whiskey?"

"Please."

They drank and watched each other. And waited. Sirius could see the same jumble of questions in Harry's expression that he, himself, tried to keep under control. He didn't know how to ask, without giving away information he had no right sharing. He put down his glass of liquor, afraid of saying too much under its influence.

"I wish Hermione had been involved with someone else," he said, thinking an honest approach couldn't go wrong. It could. Harry's eyes went ice cold and filled with anger.

"I love Hermione very much. You can't be serious saying something like that to me. And don't even begin thinking about the pun. You should be proud of being able to protect her with your pure blood."

"But I am!" Sirius protested. "Why does everyone misread me? I meant that for her sake she'd be better off with someone she loves."

Harry's gaze brightened.

"Oh, I see. OK." He drained his glass. "Well, she isn't with anyone else, maybe she'll never be. And maybe she'll love you as much as she's capable, given time."

Sirius cocked his head in a silent question. When Harry didn't continue, he refilled the younger man's glass and pushed on.

"As much as she's capable, what do you mean? I know you are close. How close? Were you ever…?"

Harry slammed his glass onto the table.

"Merlin, you are nosy! Stay out of it! Can't you just…" He seemed lost for words. The jumble of questions, the wish to keep information to himself silenced him.

"Can't I just what, Harry?" Sirius almost roared, but lowered his voice, concerned they'd be alone. "Marry her without knowing whose heart I'm crushing? Protect her with all the dark magic my family possesses without knowing whether it will hurt anyone else? If she's my wife, legally, but she loves someone else, there might be obedience curses I'm not even aware of that can do a lot of harm. And there might be jinxes against her muggleborn status in this bloody house, that can kick in once I bring her here as my wife. You know I don't share the issue with muggleborns with the rest of my family, but there are nicer pure blood families than mine. I want to keep her safe, if there is another war coming, I'll be happy to fight for her and everything I believe in. I care about her, and I care about you, you are practically my son, so can you please tell me if there is something I need to know. Ask Tonks' mother what happened to her when she got engaged to Tonks's father, muggleborn Ted. They really had to fight, and they loved each other, they chose to be together, they weren't paired up like Hermione and I've been."

Harry refilled his glass and drank. _Good, get drunk and spill your secrets._

The fire whiskey had the effect Sirius wanted, and Harry leaned back in the armchair, eyes slightly glazed.

"When we were searching for horcruxes, Ron left us. That medallion affected him more than Hermione and me. One day he just cracked, we fought and he left. She was an absolute mess, cried at nights, was angry with Ron during the days. We were together all the time, and we were scared. We… " He hesitated, and Sirius tried to urge him on with as a compassionate look as he could muster. "We needed comfort, and the touch of another human being. Having that… thing, around your neck half the time played tricks with your mind. We just kissed and held each other, nothing more. I think we both wanted more, I know I did, but we also knew that if we had sex, even though we both longed for someone else, that would destroy something in our relationship, not to mention the guilt we would feel, if we were to come out of the war alive." Harry emptied his third glass of liquor, and Sirius kept pouring.

"And then you were captured," Sirius continued.

Harry hardly looked surprised.

"Yes. Ron had come back, and snatchers took us to Malfoy Manor. We were in the dungeons, and I swear, I've never felt so helpless as I did then. Locked in and listening to Hermione screaming. She showed us Bellatrix carving on her arm later, have you seen it? It says 'mudblood.'" Sirius nodded, but that didn't seem to surprise his rather drunk godson either. Harry seemed to hesitate between falling into a drunken slumber or to continue his story while the alcohol gave him false courage and the clouded judgement that he was right in sharing things he'd never talked about with anyone before.

"We spent a few more nights in the tent before we reached Hogwarts. One night when Ron kept guard outside, Hermione had nightmares. She screamed loud enough to wake me, the same kind of scream as in Malfoy Manor. I couldn't wake her fully, she was somewhere between asleep and awake, but in total panic, and I… Oh, shit, I wish I never…"

"What?"

"During the year when you hid here, Voldemort invaded my thoughts, you know that, right? Dumbledore put Snape to give me Occlumency lessons, but they ended rather abruptly. I can't think of many things worse than having your memories sorted through by Snape, can you? Anyway, one evening when I was totally exhausted, I attacked him, or his memories. I was only trying to pull up a _protego_ shield, but somehow I found it easy to enter his mind instead. No need to say that he was furious and kicked me out. I did that to Hermione. I cast a _legilimency_ charm on her and saw her memories of Malfoy Manor. Lestrange…"

"…raped her," Sirius finished for him.

Harry's jaw dropped.

"You knew. Why the fuck didn't you tell me? What's the point of this whole talk? How come you know?"

Sirius kept his calm, noticing that his godson had problems focusing properly. With a slightly guilty feeling he topped up Harry's glass once more.

"She told me when I had to tell her about Lestrange. And I didn't tell you because I didn't knew if you knew. And the point of this is that I need to know that no one will be more that necessary heart broken in the New Marriage Deal."

"She already is," Harry mumbled with his eyes shut.

Sirius sat watching his godson falling asleep. Harry would have a dreadful hangover the next day, but Sirius' priorities had shifted during the past twenty-four hours. He drained his own, and only, glass and left for the library. He needed a register of commissioned portraits in the Black family and he had a hunch he'd find one among his father's papers.

Sirius lit a single desk lamp on the desk in the library and opened the large, middle drawer. Soon he found what he was looking for. The only two portraits of Phineas Nigellus were the one hanging in the stairwell at Grimmauld Place and the one in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. He continued to look for other paintings that could be a potential risk of information leak, when he heard someone stir in the other end of the room. He tilted the desk lamp, and the bleak light barely reached the couch in front of the fireplace. Someone was cuddled up in the corner. Silently he tiptoed to the couch he'd sat in earlier that afternoon.

Hermione lay asleep with her knees drawn up to her chin, under the grey blanket. She looked so small. And young. The fine lines of worry that often showed when she was awake were gone, and the shadow of a smile played in the corners of her mouth.

He returned to the desk, realizing he'd been slightly worried about her when talking to Harry and not knowing where she was. Knowing exactly where she was, that she had returned to his library, settled his mind.

A list of portraits of Pollux Black, his mother's father caught his attention. One was supposed to hang in the library where he sat. Others were, according to the list, situated at the Lestrange castle, Malfoy Manor and, surprisingly, at the home of Andromeda and Ted Tonks. He lit a candle and began examining the frames along the walls. Some of the frames were empty, and one of these had a small metal piece inscribed 'Pollux Black.' He couldn't remember ever seeing anyone in that portrait, he had no idea what his maternal grandfather looked like. He tried to take down the frame, but it seemed stuck to the wall with the same charm that held his mother's portrait securely on the wall in the hallway. But better safe than sorry, he thought, removed his jacket, hung it over the frame and cast a silencing charm over the painting.

Hermione muttered in her sleep. Standing next to the couch, he saw her tossing restlessly. The smile was gone from her lips and the lines of worry in her face deeper than ever. He quickly sat down, running his hands along her legs, trying to calm her.

"No, no, no!" she screamed and kicked him hard in the chest. He slid down on the floor, still with his hands on her, but now shaking her carefully to wake her up. She shoved him hard on his shoulder and sat straight up, looking terrified and prepared to fight.

"Leave me alone," she whimpered and curled up in a ball.

"Honey, it's me, you're safe. You were dreaming, it wasn't real," he mumbled into her ear. She gave him a look that told him it was as real as it could get, then rested her forehead against her knees and cried. As Sirius pulled her into his arms, rubbing his chest, he wondered if all Hermione's nights were as haunted as this. If so, no wonder she looked tired.

"Did I kick you?" she asked silently against his shoulder.

"Well, yes, but never mind that. I'm glad to know you can fight," he tried to joke.

"I thought you were…"

"But I'm not. He'll never be real, never get to you again, I promise."

They sat in silence while her breathing slowed down and she grew limp in his arms. He drew the blanket around her slight form and resisted the desire stroke her silky skin and only held her. When her hand came up and rested on his chest he resisted even harder, bothered about the feelings her presence awoke in him. He thought about trying to get back to his desk, but the warm weight of Hermione's body made him feel relaxed, and tired. He'd just close his eyes for a minute.

Neither of them was aware of Remus entering the library an hour later, looking for Harry. Sirius oldest friend stood watching the sleeping couple, and almost smiled. Sirius had stretched his long legs on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Hermione lay draped over his chest. Relaxed as they seemed, their hands clung to the other sleeping person's body. It might not have been a match made in heaven at first glance, but it might become. Tonks came up behind him.

"Oh," she said when she saw them.

"Yes, love. Oh. Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes, let's."

**Perhaps not academically demonstrated, but I do believe I'll write faster with even more positive feedback. Let's see if you can prove that empirically...**

**Love, K**


	10. Preparing

**Thank you all for your reviews and support. Here comes the next chapter. Am I stalling? Perhaps. But even so, I have moved on with new chapters, but they are still un-edited in my computer. **

**Love, K **

9. Preparing

Sirius woke early. The light from the windows of the library still had the greyness of dawn. His limbs were stiff and he was cold. He hadn't been cold while he was asleep, though. A dream of a warm body pressed to his had kept him in blissful, light sleep, even in his rather unorthodox position, half lying in the sofa, with his legs on the coffee table.

When he placed his feet on the floor, they collided with something. A pair of white sandals halfway under the table snapped him into focus. Hermione. She hadn't been a dream, she had spent the night with him, under the blanket in the old dusty sofa. He'd been so aware of her, even in sleep, how come he hadn't noticed when she left?

In the kitchen, Kreacher served Ginny another cup of tea when Sirius stumbled in.

"It's 7 o'clock, Sirius," Ginny said. "I've never seen you up this early."

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered. _Where is she?_

"So said your wife-to-be. You just missed her."

"Where is she?"

"It's graduation day at Hogwarts today, have you forgotten?"

He had. He had forgotten all about the things that used to be his every day life. The governor seat at Hogwarts, the tedious process of studying Phineas diaries to help Minerva, tricking Remus to come see him alone to play chess and drink, his worries for Harry being far too like himself when shunning from life and love. He felt the same energy as the day before, the combat readiness he'd felt as a young Auror with James. A determination to, if not change things, at least stand up for what was right, and be prepared to keep things that way. It was probably wrong, but somewhere in his mind he hoped the Death Eaters were on the move again. He knew the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had captured fewer than they had hoped to after the war. There was still a frightening large number in freedom, and trace mark or not, they could never be trusted. The arranged marriage he was about to enter seemed like a ticket back to being what he'd been in his heart since the age of eight; a rebel against the beliefs he was raised with. And he had missed his chance four years ago. He wouldn't go so far as to say that things would have turned out differently if he had been there, at the Battle of Hogwarts with the rest of the Order. He might have been dead, really dead. Others might have died, protecting him. Or someone who lost his or her life during that day might have been alive because of him. And now his chance might have come. This time around he wouldn't let his pride get the better of him, as it had when Bellatrix materialised in a cloud of black smoke in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. This time he would be prepared.

"Have you?" Ginny asked again.

"Hm. Yes, obviously. Bit early to leave, isn't it? And why are you up?"

"Hermione wanted an early start. Quite a lot of administration at the end of term. She hopes she won't have to spend weeks of the summer holidays at Hogwarts. And I have practice. World Cup's only two months away."

"And I'm having breakfast with England's seeker. Amazing."

Ginny blushed slightly and they spent the breakfast talking Quidditch strategy and memorable games.

When Ginny had left, Sirius climbed the stairs to the third floor. The rooms opposite his hadn't been used for ages. One had been his mother's room, two others were rarely used guest rooms. If Hermione were to have her official, permanent address at 12 Grimmauld Place, he'd better clean out at least one decent sized room for her. The few times she'd spent the night after her school days, she'd stayed in a small room on the first floor that she used to share with Ginny years before. No one used that room anymore, and Sirius knew he'd stored some old paintings, clothes and paraphernalia adorned with the viler versions of the Black family crest there. He'd thought about locking it permanently and have a wall built in front of the door, but he'd never got around to it.

He opened the door to his mother's room. It was large, had high windows and an adjoining bathroom, but he almost immediately felt sick. Even with the clear morning light from the windows, it was dark. In her later years his mother had preferred dark rooms, stayed away from the sunlight that would reveal her lost beauty. His mother had been dead for almost twenty years, but he could still pick up traces of her perfume with his acute canine sense of smell. Heavy, sweet with a tinge of… dirt? He knew he had magical powers enough to transform the room into whatever he wanted, but just the thought of having Hermione within its walls made him back out and close the door. The next room was almost as large, with the same high windows overlooking the garden. He drew his wand and started muttering transfigurations and cleaning spells. He was a little at loss on how to finish it, but took a leaf out of Tonk's book and created the same bright and welcoming atmosphere she had given Remus' old, declining cottage.

Phineas portrait was still empty. He thought about owling Minerva to make sure the old headmaster was at Hogwarts. Or perhaps Hermione and have an excuse for asking when she would be back. Somehow the absence of, on the one hand his ancestor and, on the other hand, Hermione worried him. He wanted to make sure the former wasn't up to no good, and the latter were all right.

"Sirius?" came Remus voice from the kitchen and he hurried down the last steps. Kreacher stood unoccupied by the stove and Sirius gave him a hard stare.

"A guest, Kreacher. I don't need to remind you of how the House of Black treats guest, do I?"

"Tea?" croaked the elf.

"Yes, please," Remus replied. "You need a honeymoon," he said next.

"Me and Kreacher?" Sirius asked.

"Don't be daft. You and your wife, after the wedding. It's tomorrow, you know. Where is she?"

"Hermione is at work. I know it's tomorrow, and we don't need a honeymoon, thank you very much. Honeymoons are for people in love, for spending the whole day naked in bed. I can't really see myself doing that with Hermione, even though the thought is appealing."

"In this eyes of the Ministry you are very much in love and all over each other. You should go away somewhere. I don't really want to know where or what you do, but you seem to get along nicely"

"We are and point taken about our alleged love story, but I doubt she'd want to hide away with me somewhere for a longer period of time."

"I'm not so sure about that…"

Sirius muttered something inaudible.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, but I don't want to go away to play happy families, I want to stay here and see what happens once all these civil marriages are beginning to be registered. I think she wants that too. She's more vigilant and watchful than most of us. We're marrying each other, but we're also marrying the Order. If the business of the Order is to be what it once was, we're part of it. Couldn't we stay here, under the pretext of creating a home together? Everyone, especially the old aristocracy, among which many were Death Eaters, knows how decrepit this house is. It was falling apart even when my mother held her last parties."

"A working holiday? A working honeymoon?"

"Yes, something like that."

"I guess, but you'd better stay here alone for a while."

"All right, but you or Kingsley has to alert us if something happens. Meanwhile we can work on my mother portrait. How do you think she would like a beard like mine? Arthur gave me this muggle permanent marker. You can write on just about everything, and the smell makes you go dizzy."

"I believe Hermione could give you some more constructive ideas, if you ask her. Have you checked your dress robes?"

"Dress robes?"

"For tomorrow."

"Oh, right. Kreacher?"

Hermione came back late. Harry and Ginny, Remus, Tonks and Teddy, and Sirius had finished a late dinner and sat around the kitchen table drinking the last of the wine. They were all relaxed and happy, and Sirius had almost forgot the commitment he was about to enter the next day. Hermione, on the other hand looked as if she'd had a long and tiresome day. She had a bundle of books and parchments under her arm, a few bouquet of withering flowers, and a heavy bag slung over her shoulder that stooped under its weight. Tonks got to her feet before anyone else had time to react and placed Hermione's work-related burden on a side-table.

"Sit down. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving, but I have to go back. These are just my work things. I need to get my trunk with my personal stuff. If that's OK, Sirius…" she finished tentatively.

"Of course. I've cleared out a room for you. Would you like me to come with you for your trunk?"

"Oh, would you? I'd be so grateful."

"Well, let's go."

Hermione's quarters at Hogwarts were in the Gryffindor Tower, but two floors below the students' common room and dormitories. The rooms were nice, but impersonal. A photo of Harry and Ron on the desk was about the only personal thing he could see. She could of course have packed other mementos in her trunk, but somehow he doubted that.

"How do you feel?" he asked while they were walking the corridors back to the large fireplace in the entrance hall.

"Oh, I'm fine, just tired. And you?"

"I meant about tomorrow," he added and she sighed but didn't answer.

The corridors and vast rooms of Hogwarts were empty. Sirius wondered if Hermione was the last member of staff left on the premises. Even Minerva had gone into London to stay with her nephew, whose son had graduated the same morning, Remus had said earlier. Why had Hermione chosen to stay the whole day at work? How much administrative parchment work could there be? Was he a reason for her staying away?

Grimmauld Place was empty when they returned. The kitchen table was cleared, apart from two glasses and plates.

"Still hungry?" Sirius asked her.

"Famished. I could eat anything."

He rummaged through the pantry and came back to the table with some cheese, salami, olives and bread. Three empty wine bottles on the worktop sent him down to the cellar to get another bottle. Red or white? He brought one of each. When he came back, Hermione sat with her feet on another chair, her cloak tossed carelessly on the table and about to remove hairpins from her hair. She threw him a smile, which he returned while wagging the bottles for her to see.

"Definitely red," she decided and cut some cheese.

He served her and sat opposite her, watching her as she ate. The colour returned to her cheeks and her exhaustion seemed to be kept at bay.

"I didn't want to talk about tomorrow at Hogwarts. It seemed empty enough, but all the portraits and Mrs Norris and the ghosts lurking about makes it impossible to keep a private conversation. I've been thinking today." She swallowed and drew the plates of olives closer. "Mmm, lovely. Greek, right?"

"No idea. Molly always arranges food for Order meetings and then there are left-overs for days. So, what have you been thinking?"

"Officially we have to do this one hundred per cent. And officially is everywhere outside this house. That woman Bendel sent me an owl, congratulating me on my impending marriage today. It seemed genuine enough."

"I agree. But speaking of this house, we'll be in house arrest here for a week."

"What?"

"Honeymoon privacy. Or a working holiday, re-decorating. Unless you'd rather go away. Scotland? France?"

"I want to be here. In London. And I won't get in you way. We could perhaps even do some decorating."

"You won't be in my way. I just don't want you to feel I'm holding you prisoner."

"Prisoner? You have the largest, private library in London." She held up her empty glass. "And probably the best wine cellar in England."

He poured her another glass.

"About tomorrow then," he said. "I've had Kreacher check my dress robes. Do you need him to iron anything for you?"

"Oh, give him a rest. I'm perfectly capable of ironing my own clothes. But I'll look the part, I promise."

_I'm sure you will. The way you look now, with your feet up and your hair down and your lips red from the wine, you look good enough to eat._

"And I've already done some re-decorating. I've cleared out one of the larger rooms upstairs. You can change it if you like. I mean, this will be your house too, and you can do whatever you want to it. Do you want to see it?

_Beacuse if that third button in your tight shirt pops, I don't know what to do._

"How thoughtful. Thank you. I'd rather sit here just a few more minutes. Or do you want to go to bed? Is it late?"

"Half past eleven. More wine?"

She drank in silence, and Sirius cleared away the plates. Giving Kreacher a rest definitely gave the kitchen a more unstrained atmosphere. He saw Hermione rubbing the back of her neck, and tilting her head this way and that. Not really knowing if it was for her sake or for his own he stood behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently. She tipped her head back and grinned upside down.

"You're an angel."

_ If you knew what goes through my mind, you'd hardly call me an angel._

He found hard, cramped muscles and kneaded them with his thumbs. She let her head fall forward and rest on the table.

_ You'd call me a pervert and run away screaming._

His hands caressed her shoulders, and he wanted to slide apart her shirt and touch her skin. Her scent of peaches and tea and… something more, made his head spin.

_ Damn you, Remus and Tonks. Why did you have to hurry home? And is Harry still in the house, or has he gone home with Ginny?_

Hermione gasped when his willing fingers found a tender bundle of muscles.

"Yes, right there. Oh…"

_ What am I doing? Another moan from her, and I'll just lose it. _

She purred when her tense muscles gave in to his touch.

"Mm, just a little lower. Yes, just there…"

Sirius closed his eyes and tried to think of Quidditch, but could only see a cheering Hermione in the crowd. A Potions lessons with Horace Slughorn from his school days, but Hermione, in her formal teaching suit took Slughorn's place and talked about love potions. Desperately he recalled the last meeting of the Governors at Hogwarts, but somehow she slipped into that memory as well. And then a low moan, close to a sob, shattered those mental pictures as well. He held his hands still, praying she wouldn't ask for more. She didn't. Instead she took one of his hands in her and pulled it to her face, kissing it lightly.

"I could get used to these hands. You're marvellous. Thank you."

Again she'd tipped her head, leaned back and watched him upside down. He could see down her shirt, her cleavage in a plain white bra, her creamy skin slightly flushed. His hand acted on its own and let one finger slide across her lips again, begging for another kiss, then follow her jawline, and stroked the skin on her neck. Her pulse was fast, but not compared to his own. Her lips were parted and moist, and he remembered her taste. What would she do if he bent down and kissed her? He took a step back and a tiny jingle in his trouser pocket reminded him of something he had to do. He sat down beside her and held up a small gold ring. A line of seven small diamonds made it a small band of glittering reflections.

"For our twelve hour engagement. It belonged to my father's sister Lucretia. It's one of the less hideous pieces of family jewellery."

"It's beautiful."

He took her small hand in his and slid the ring on her fourth finger. His hands shook slightly.

"I should be on my knees. Do you mind?" he tried to joke. She didn't smile, just watched their hands before she let her eyes wander upwards to meet his.

"Thank you. Thank you for doing this for me." Tentatively she leaned in and kissed him chastely with closed lips.

His blood roared in his ears when he drew her to his chest and buried his shaking hands in her hair, all his focus on not crushing her to his chest or let his lips stray to the velvet skin of her neck. He kissed her back softly, holding back the waves of lust that rolled over him.

_I need to get away! I can't do this! I can't have you this close and not continue kissing you. I want to taste you all over, take off every piece of clothing you have and love you._

With the last strains of self-control he had, he broke the kiss, smiled, and only leaned in for one last breath in her hair and peck on her cheek.

"I'll show you your room. Come on."

**Will it be possible to turn this into an M-rated wedding night? What would it take do you think?**


	11. Wedding Day

They were to meet Minister Bendel after lunch. Hermione slept late and shuffled into the kitchen at ten. Sirius had been up since the crack of dawn. Erotic dreams of his wife to be in his marriage of convenience had made it impossible to sleep. He'd debated whether to wake her or have Kreacher bring her breakfast in bed, but couldn't decide and left it. Harry and Sirius shared the Daily Prophet and discussed the sports results.

"Isn't Krum getting too old for professional Quidditch?" Harry said the minute Hermione came into view.

"Hm?"

"I said, isn't Krum…?"

"I heard you the first time, Harry," he said in a throaty, low voice, "but I haven't had tea yet. I can't think before… Oh, thank you, Sirius."

_ Just keep that sexy bed-voice quiet, and I might be able to be a gentleman._

She took a gulp of tea and cleared her throat.

"Krum?"

"Is it even decided that England will meet Romania in the World Cup?" Hermione avoided the question.

"No, not formally, but what other teams are there. Good enough?"

"Shouldn't you worry more about the Romanian Beaters rather than their Seeker? Is Ginny or England's victory your priority?"

_ How can you look so sleep tousled, but still be sharp as a razor?_

"Both. Now, when last did you see Victor? How is he? In shape or has he put on weight?"

_ Yes, when did you last see Victor? And I don't want to know what you know about his shape. I hope he's fat, balding and near sighted._

"I was in Romania last Christmas, you know that. Victor was well. Practiced a lot. But, Harry, you know Victor's and my relationship has never been about him being a Quidditch player. He has a huge fan club, and thinks it's hilarious I'm not in it. That I'm not even interested in the sport. Pass the toast, please."

_ What is your relationship about then? No, I don't want to know. What are you interested in, then? Him?_

"We have to leave at twelve," Sirius changed the subject. "Floo or apparition?"

"If we floo, we'll be all dusted in ash. I suspect Witches Weekly will be there and take photos. The Heir of the House of Black marrying a commoner. A field day for the press." She giggled, but sobered up at once and added "For which I am truly grateful."

Harry returned to the discussion on Quidditch, even though Hermione's total lack of interest and sometimes rather mean comments about sport in general and what she called 'multiple football on brooms' in particular, whatever she meant by that. When the clock in the hall struck eleven, Sirius began to feel restless. He could change into his dress robes in five minutes, but he knew from experience that women took forever just to get dressed for a lazy day at home.

"It's past eleven," he ventured.

"Yes, I heard," Hermione answered. "Is there any more tea?"

"Shouldn't you…?"

"Shouldn't I what…!" she snapped, suddenly irritated.

"Change. I won't marry you in your pyjamas."

"Oh! You're right. See you at the Ministry, Harry?"

"You bet."

* * *

Hermione hesitated with her hand on the doorknob of her bedroom door. Sirius stalled, waiting for her to share whatever she was thinking about, or to go and change.

"Sirius, are we OK with this? I feel you're getting yourself into a lot more than a marriage of convenience. If there is another, darker plan than family planning and raising the nativity, you might find yourself in another war. You lost James and Lily in the first war, and yourself in the second."

"And that's why I'm almost hoping there will be a third."

"You do?" Hermione starred at him. _Appalled? No, curious._

"Yes, in a way. A bit ashamed of it, actually, but I want to fight. I couldn't in the second war, and some of them got away then. I want them all dead or in Azkaban."

Hermione smiled at his outspoken confession.

"So do I. The version Kingsley gave us, the nativity crisis, can't be all. I also believe there is a lot more. And I feel almost happy about it. Scared, but ready. The victory over Voldemort was double-edged. There are still too many Death Eaters out there. We are free, but not safe, as long as that's the case. And I trust you to fight them with me, with the Order."

The clock in the hall struck half past eleven and Hermione quickly disappeared into her room.

* * *

_She's as ready for combat as you are. She's also marrying the Order, not you, for strength and the good-for-the-greater-good. She is as damaged by the war as you are, not really able to live a normal life. Needs the adrenaline kicks, the danger, the life-or-death challenges. And that makes her all the more attractive._

Sirius continued his inner monologue with his mirror image while he fiddled with his bow tie. The white silk wouldn't obey his fingers. A knock on the door, and Hermione stepped in.

"Ready?"

He gaped at her. In five minutes she had transformed from an uncombed, pyjama-clad girl into a picture perfect woman. She wore a pink, knee-length, tailored dress in heavy silk, with a dark red ribbon around her waist. Her hair was sleek and shiny in a loose bun, and her shoulders were covered in a creamy white lacy shawl.

"Have you seen my shoes? White sandals?"

He had seen them somewhere, but had no idea where. He hadn't noticed she was bare foot.

"Sirius? What is it? Is the collar strangling you?"

"No, no. I'm just… You look lovely. You really do look the part. I would perhaps too, if this damned…" He tugged at the strip of white cloth around his neck.

"Let me."

Her warm fingers against his skin gave him goose bumps. He watched her intently while she focused on the loops and ends. A few strands of hair framed her face, and her lips were lightly lip glossed. And highly kissable. She frowned in concentration before she'd managed to tie the bow perfectly.

"Now you look good too."

He took her hands in his and kissed them, then he drew her into his embrace and felt her arms go around his back. He spoke quietly into her ear.

"I don't deserve such a beautiful wife, or comrade-in-arms. We're about to go into the "official" world. Will you be OK with that now? We'll play the most passionate pair in England. I'll be all over you. "

_ As if I'll have to pretend that…_

"We'll be among the first to register, and with you being you, and me being me, the press will definitely be there. And people at the Ministry. And others, we don't know who, but maybe it's them we have to convince the hardest."

She withdrew enough to meet his eyes.

"I know." She tiptoed and kissed him lightly. "After I've found my shoes."

"Library. I saw them in the library yesterday."

"Right. Let's go."

* * *

Minister Bendel beamed at them. Sirius wondered if she might be under an _Imperio_ curse. No one could be so happy about the alleged happiness of people you didn't know.

Her held Hermione's hand and repeated his vows to her. The ceremony took less than ten minutes. He pecked her on the lips when Ms Bendel told him and then they were Mr and Mrs Black.

To market their New Social Deal, the Department of Social Welfare gave a small party after the wedding. Friends and Ministry officials were there, as was the press. Sirius and Hermione posed in front of the flashing cameras. When the press left, they mingled. Hermione stood laughing with George Weasley, and Sirius talked to Luna Lovegood about mending the Black Family Tapestry. Luna was delighted and promised to come over some day the following week. She asked him whether he wanted his guitar in the picture of him she was about to mend, which he didn't understood, and only stressed the importance of adding Hermione. Luna was indeed a strange, but charming bird.

He saw his cousin close in on them. Her hair was pitch black, as were her eyes. He wearily wondered what he'd done now.

"You're supposed to mingle, Sirius."

"But I am, Tonks."

"With your wife. Mother said Druella's, her mother's, old flat has been reopened. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy might be in London. That's unusual in itself. And Pollox told me Rodolphus hasn't been at home since the day before yest…"

"Pollox Black? What do you know about him?"

"Well, he's mostly in his portrait at Mother's place. He never visits Grimmauld Place, for which you should be grateful. The screaming between him and aunt Walbruga would make you go deaf."

"So that's where he is," Sirius mumbled. "I need to talk to him some day soon."

"You're always welcome, but now you have some showing off to do." She pushed him gently in the direction of Hermione and George.

He drew his arm around Hermione's waist.

"Now, my lovely Mrs Black, we have some mingling to do."

"Of course, Mr Black. Let's thank Ms Bendel first, shall we?"

They made their way around the room, thanking people they didn't really know for coming, posing for a few remaining photographers, and sipping white wine the Ministry supplied. Hermione intertwined her fingers with his around her waist and held her other around him. He caressed her body with his hands, revelling in the feeling of her softness. When she leaned into his embrace the room began to spin. And he could kiss her, people expected him to kiss her, and he didn't let them down. She answered his kisses willingly, giggled and let her hands roam his body under his jacket, and he had to fight the urge to pull her into an empty office, stop acting and kiss her properly. She was such an actress in this whole charade, but he couldn't think of how he would be able to let her go once they had left the Ministry. When they reached Mr and Mrs Weasley he sobered up.

"I've arranged for some food to Grimmauld Place. If you are to be locked up there for a week, you musn't starve."

"Thank you, Molly. What would we do without you?"

"I know what I'm going to do," Hermione said quietly.

"What is that, love?"

"Take advantage of your library. I want all the books possible on bloodlines, especially from the pure-bloods' point of view. Try to think as your mother, Sirius. What books about pure blood and heredity would she favour? Or someone like Bellatrix?"

Sirius knew his library well enough to think of at least two books, a dissertation and a few articles that his mother would have liked.

"Isn't it time for you to leave soon?" Arthur pitched in. "You're supposed to want some privacy."

"Oh, right. Are you ready to leave, sweetie?"

"Just let me say good bye to Harry and Ginny."

While Hermione had a last word with her friends, the word that they were leaving spread, and Ms Bendel and her sidekick Mr Eckhart proposed a toast and cheered for a kiss. When Hermione returned, Sirius wrapped her in her arms and whispered "One for the road, love?" before her pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back passionately, and when he felt her tongue slide along his lower lips, he almost forgot where they were going. With a soft 'pop' the room at the Ministry was replaced with the sombre darkness of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

"Thank you," she whispered and loosened her grip. He retaliated and drew her close again.

"No, thank you. You've reminded me of how lucky I am."

"You are?"

"I could have been forced into a marriage with Rita Skeeter, or any other witch who would have made my life unbearable. Now I have every pure-blood in London envying me." He thought really hard about Ms Skeeter to take his focus off Hermione's changed demeanour. With her audience gone, she immediately created some space between them.

Hermione giggled.

"If you say so. I caught some envious glances as well. What about those books?"

"Books?"

"On lineage, bloodlines, pure blood. I gather that they are not from a pro-muggle perspective in this house. And perhaps the same editions one might find in the Lestrange Castle or at Malfoy Manor."

"I can think of a few off the top of my head, but I'm feeling a bit peckish. You?"

_ If I can't have you, I need some kind of other treat, preferably alcohol, but not yet._

"You mean, what has Molly brought us?"

"Mhm." He opened the door to the pantry and burst out laughing.

"What is it?" Hermione scurried after him. "Oh Merlin, she's baked us a cake, a wedding cake."

"Want some?"

"Of course. And what is this?" Hermione pointed at a bottle, next to the cake.

"With the compliments of the Department for Social Welfare," Sirius read on a note wrapped around the bottle neck. "This is really good stuff. I know the vineyard. White, sparkling."

"Champagne?"

"No, silly, it's English. An elf winery. Made from gooseberries and elder blossom. Want a glass to your cake?"

"You go into the library, and pick out some of those books. I'll join you with cake and wine."

* * *

He opened one of the large French windows before he began searching the shelves. When Hermione entered the library with a tray with slices of cake, the bottle and two glasses, he browsed old volumes of "Pure Britain," a periodical so devoted to pure bloodlines, it had been forced out of business when he was at Hogwarts. His mother had, of course, kept all the old journals.

Hermione placed the tray on the desk and handed him the bottle.

"No good with projectile corks. Would you?"

He took the bottle and slowly eased the cork out of the dusky green bottle. With the tiniest of hisses it came out and he poured the two high crystal glasses. He handed one to her and raised his.

"Well, to us then, Mrs Black."

"To us," she agreed and sipped the wine.

Sirius was almost afraid to look at her. She had left he shawl somewhere and he couldn't think straight when he saw her naked shoulders. The tiny straps of the pink dress revealed that she hadn't much on underneath it, which created the most distressing images in his mind.

_I'm supposed to match her academically now. I've just married the most beautiful witch in England, I can't keep my mind off her, hardly my hands. I have a painful hard-on, and she wants to do research. On fucking bloodlines._

"What are those," Hermione asked and accidentally brushed his hand with hers.

"Bullshit about blood purity. Last issue is from 1974. But I can imagine some people are still reading them as if they were the news. Or holy scriptures."

"Who was the editor? Is he or she still alive?" She took another gulp of her wine and gestured with her glass. "You were right. This is lovely. English summer in a bottle."

Sirius smiled, pleased, and opened one of the journals to find the editors name. Hermione downed her glass and took a step towards one of the bookshelves.

_What the fuck am I going to do? I can't have a discussion on this subject, on any subject for that matter, not with her and not now. _

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her reach for a book on one of the upper shelves. The pink silk stretched around her bottom, and slid high enough to give him a view of her toned thighs. He closed his eyes and thought about apparating away. Anywhere. He heard a small clink when she put her glass down, then the rustle of her dress when she moved.

"Sirius?" she asked in a low voice.

_ No. And don't use that husky voice with me. I can't take it. I can't even look at you. _

**What comes after a wedding day? Eh, let me think... Can it be wedding night?**

**Love**

**Kia (who is trying her best to keep a chapter or two ahead of you)**


	12. Wedding night

**Yep, it's finally here. This chapter should probably be rated M, so if you're not OK with that, read something else.**

"Sirius?" she asked again, and there was definitely a different inflection of her voice. Not the snappy, investigating curiosity from before. Taking a step back to feel the support of the desk, he looked at her.

Her usually brown eyes were black. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted. The expression in her eyes was a reflection of his own inner turmoil. He'd only seen it in his dreams, those beautiful dreams that turned to pain when he woke up.

_ The expression in your eyes._

The recognition shocked and transfixed him. And then she moved, and he caught her mid-stride. Their lips crashed violently. The scent of her was as intoxicating as before. More than before. He wondered briefly if it was possible to pass out from lust, or lack of blood to his brain. His blood pressure was elsewhere.

They stumbled against the sturdy desk, and her hand flew down to steady them, even though he wouldn't mind falling onto the hard and dusty floorboards with her. She giggled against his lips and he withdrew, confused.

_ If you're just playing with me, I'll kill myself. I need you so…_

She held up her hand and stopped his inner ramblings. The remains of the wedding cake covered her fingers. Cream and strawberries. Without a word he took her hand in his and pulled it to his mouth. Suddenly locked in time he slowly took her thumb in his mouth, sucked and licked it clean. Slowly he continued with her other fingers. Her eyes grew, if possibly, even darker, her breath hitched in her throat. His tongue slid down to the centre of her palm and drew lazy patterns, and she couldn't hold back a moan, like the ones he'd cursed the previous night. When he reached her wrist, she threw back her head and sobbed. Her pulse against his lips matched his own. Hard and fast and slightly irregular. The pillar of her neck called to him and he drew he close again and mumbled sweet nothings against her velvet skin. Her taste was in his mouth, her moans in his ears, and her scent in his nose. He sucked and bit the skin over her pulse point and she gasped. The last remaining sober part of his mind wondered if he perhaps was dreaming, after all, but decided against it. Her shiver when he lowered the straps of her dress was too amazing to be conjured up by a sleeping mind.

"Oh, sweetie, you are so beautiful. I want you more than anything," he mumbled against her cheek.

She drew back her face a few inches, just far enough to be able to focus. There was a hint of a question in her eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He fought the urge to pull her back. Silently she watched him before she spoke.

"You missed some."

Before he could even begin to wonder what she meant she leaned in and licked the corners of his mouth, before kissing him with a taste of cream and strawberries. Her tongue invaded his mouth while his shivering hands searched for the zipper in her dress.

"Are you sure?" he mumbled in a half-hearted question when he found the metal bling under her hair.

"Mhm."

The pink silk pooled around her feet and he could finally touch her creamy skin. His hands caressed her body and his tongue tasted her mouth, neck, shoulders. When he invaded her mouth with his, he communicated all his desire he couldn't put into words without stop kissing her. And he wouldn't, couldn't stop now.

Her eager fingers ripped his bow-tie unbound, and faster that he would have imagined, the buttons of his shirt were undone. Her skin against his burned. He needed to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, but didn't want to loose his grip around her. As if she'd read his mind, she turned around and tilted his head back on his shoulder. He cupped her breast and pinched her nipples, urged on by her gasps. She pushed her bottom against him and he growled in pain.

_ Need you now! Can't mess this up. Should have gone on a shagging spree before this, I'll make an utter fool of myself and my teenage stamina._

She turned around in his arms and went for his belt.

_ Good Lord, your fingers are quick._

"Upstairs?" he gasped in her ear, at loss on how they would get there.

She answered with another heated kiss.

"No. Here. Now." Her commanding tone was a huge turn-on. He cupped her face to slow down for a second, just long enough to look into her eyes and see the same need and passion he'd seen before. It was there. She caught his index finger with her lips and sucked it into her mouth. When her cheeks hollowed he had to close his eyes. The mere thought of her cheeks hollowing around his painfully aroused member, upset the pre-orgasm tingles to new unexplored levels.

And then she dropped to her knees and did exactly that.

Sirius had never felt so ambivalent in his life. A few seconds of absolute, mind-boggling bliss or prolonged pain? An unknown masochist in him stepped forward, grasped her shoulders and pulled her up. With a smirk she faced him.

"No?"

"No. I want you longer than that."

With a deafening clatter he cleared the desk, and pushed her onto it. Immediately she wound her naked legs around him and pulled him close, grinding herself against him. She leaned her back over the support of his arm, and when he took one of her nipples in his mouth she made that half-moaning, half-sobbing sound that almost had shattered his sanity the night before, and certainly did so now. He bit down on the taunt bud in his mouth and could feel her shiver, almost shake.

His other hand snaked into her knickers. She was soaked and the scent of her arousal hit him. When his eager fingers found her bundle of nerves, she hiccupped, and he felt her muscles beginning to contract.

_ You're as close as I. And I haven't even tasted you yet._

On that thought he shoved her further onto the desk, ripped her knickers off her and bent his head.

_ Your scent alone is enough to distract me from just about anything._

Reverently he kissed her lower stomach, licked and bit. His long fingers parted her and slowly he pushed two fingers inside her.

_ God, you're tight._

The tingles this discovery evoked blurred the edges of his mind. He kneeled to make his mouth level with his hand, and sucked her most sensitive part, no larger than a pearl, into his mouth.

_ Intoxicating._

Hermione whimpered and fell apart. His free hand held down her hips, he didn't want to let go of her pleasure until she was totally spent. Her juices wet his fingers, lips, mouth. When her last, violent shivers subsided he stood up and pulled her with him. Her knees gave out and he scooped her up.

"Now, where were we?" he growled, heading for the sofa and tossing her down.

She lay splayed and watched him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and he joined her. He returned to the silky skin of her neck, eliciting small sighs that grew into louder moans. Her hands travelled down his back, nails first, and he couldn't stop his own growls of pleasure from the almost painful caress.

"Sit up," she whispered and he did. He would have done anything she'd asked.

Immediately she straddled him. They looked into each other's eyes and her grew darker again by the second. As for himself, even the dusky light in the library tantalised his diluted pupils.

_ Yep, definitely possible to pass out from lust._

She wrapped her hand around him and he involuntarily threw his head back with a hiss. He wanted to look into those beautiful eyes while she touched him, but his body acted on its own accord. She rose on her knees and planted a kiss on his lips, her tongue licking the contours of his mouth. She then nibbled along his jawline, just hard enough to be on the right side of pain.

"Look at me," she whispered.

He struggled to lift his head and succeeded shakily. The same small smile graced her swollen lips when she slowly sank down on him and sent him to heaven.

He found no words and couldn't even think about controlling the situation. He found her waist with his hands and just watched her in wonder, slowly raising and lowering herself around him. Her wetness was pooling on his thighs and every time she lowered herself his field of sight shrank to only see her face. Her blushed cheeks, bruised lips, wild hair and fluttering eyelids were sweeter torture than any of his dreams from the previous nights.

She bit her lip and increased her pace. With one hand she let go of his shoulder and began stroking herself. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own. The same shivers as on the desk began to shake her, and his need to see her become undone, not just feel it, made him able to collect himself enough to take control. He met her trusts and increased his fingers' pressure.

"Come for me, love. Let go. I need to see you come all over me," he rasped.

In seconds he could feel her contract around him, sending him over the edge and into an abyss of absolute satisfaction.

She collapsed against his chest, drawing deep, ragged breaths. The sweat on their heated bodies dried and chilled them. Sirius pulled the grey blanket around them and held her. Eventually she untangled herself and stretched the length of the sofa. Lazily he followed her, pulling her close.

The sofa wasn't wide.

"Upstairs?" he asked again in a whisper.

"I can't. I can't move," she giggled and sighed.

Again he scooped her up and walked out of the library. Her eyes held his and made him continue up the stairs to the third floor. She looked calm and sleepy, not a hint of the sadness and tiredness that had haunted Sirius the last couple of days.

He placed her in his bed and returned to the library to collect their clothes. When he came back she was still awake.

_I wish you'd always look so utterly content as you do now. No nightmares tonight, please._

He slid under the sheet with her. Her body was considerably warmer than his now and she hissed when he stroked her skin with his cool fingers. In minutes her hissings became gasps of pleasure and his strokes grew focused, harder and single-minded. Fully in charge this time around he made love to her in the bed he'd spent an eternity alone in.

He woke up with his arms around her and his mouth pressed to her naked shoulder. He felt her bottom against his morning wood and sighed contentedly. She hadn't been a dream this time around.

_ What happened?_

_ Are you really going to question that?! She's here, in your arms, in your bed, covered in your love bites, naked. Do you need to ask what happened?_

_ No, but how did it happened? I remember wanting her, I remember her wanting to do research on those fucking bloodlines, I remember…_

Hermione stirred and stretched. He drew her closer, and she lay absolutely still, tense. He could feel she was awake, even though he couldn't see her face.

"Morning, sweetie," he whispered in her ear.

"Sirius," she mumbled in an even tone.

"Yes, love?"

"Please tell me it wasn't you who spiked the wine with love potion."

**So, tell me whether you liked it or not, and I'll get you off this cliffhanger soon. It was amazingly easy to write, I guess it's because they are so good together...**

**Love, Kia**


	13. Another Potion

_"Morning, sweetie," he whispered in her ear._

_ "Sirius," she mumbled in an even tone._

_ "Yes, love?"_

_ "Please tell me it wasn't you who spiked the wine with love potion."_

Sirius was in an all-together different abyss than the night before. The edges of his mind were as blurry a then, but from fire whiskey. Copious amounts of it. But he could still feel. Guilt, even though he hadn't known. Anger, but he didn't know who to aim his anger at. Worry over Hermione who had left his bed, and his house minutes after waking up. Images from the night before flashed through his befuddled brain, and he was back to guilt. He was painfully sober, despite the whiskey.

_ She became so distant as soon as you left the Ministry. In academic research mode, and you didn't stop to wonder how she could turn around in in seconds and be all over you?_

_ But I wanted her to be all over me! And I had the wine as well. I was just as tricked as she was…_

_ You were just a tiny notch hornier than before._

_ Yes._

* * *

Remus watched his friend in horror.

"Love potion?"

"Apparently."

"And you didn't…"

"Of course I didn't."

"No, I mean, you didn't realize that you were under the effect of a potion?"

Sirius remembered Remus telling him about the written curse he'd been under at the Ministry, but been able to recognize and cast off.

_ But you weren't alone with this perfect woman who had been kissing you all afternoon at a sham wedding reception. _

"What about the scents?"

"The what?" Sirius asked and emptied the bottle in his glass. "There's more in the kitchen if you want some."

"It's a well-known fact that a love potion heightens your senses," his friend said in a dry, lecturing voice. "Especially the sense of smell."

Sirius looked at him exasperated.

"Are you, of all people, telling me, or asking me, or whatever you're doing, that? You are a wolf once a month, a werewolf. I'm a dog whenever I like. I was a dog for the better part of a year when I was on the run. You know what these transformations do to you. You know I can smell Tonks on you. And that pretty little secretary of yours, the one who always makes sure to touch you whenever she gives you a cup of tea or some papers."

Remus blushed briefly, but kept to the subject at hands.

"It's supposed to evoke pleasant scents, the most pleasant scents in each individual. Scents that aren't really there. Couldn't you feel that?"

Sirius glowered at his friend. He thought hard and tried to ignore the waves of lust that gripped him when he remembered Hermione changing from book nerd to seductress. Yes, he had felt the most intoxicating smells his mind could conjure. Her. Her scent of peaches, or was it apricot, of strong, bitter tea, of crispy linen and that sweet tinge that hit him when her hair bounced close to him.

"Yes, I could," he admitted quietly. "I could smell her."

"What was that?"

_ You haven't gone deaf, Remus, you just want me to suffer._

"I said, yes, I could, I could smell her. She smells… oh, so good. But the thing is, she did so before we came home as well."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. What do you mean 'oh'?"

Remus rose and left the room, only to return a minute later with a new bottle of Ogden's. He uncorked it and poured himself a glass. Sirius shoved his glass towards his friend. When Remus raised an eyebrow, he just glowered back, and his friend poured. Remus drank and looked at a point behind Sirius head.

"What is so interesting with the fire-place at the other side of my study, Remus?"

_ Still sober, still able to think. Fuck._

Remus finally watched him. He looked a little sad.

"I had no idea," he said finally.

"What's the 'oh' for then? You know, you can put a lot of meaning in that little syllable, and you just did. But I can't decipher it, so you'd better use a few more."

"I had no idea you would get emotionally involved. I hardly thought you could."

Sirius evaluated his friend's words. _Hardly thought you could._ Did he really give the impression of being so shallow?

"Could?"

Remus looked uneasy. They had never browsed the subject of Sirius emotional life before. Not like this. When Sirius had lived cooped up at Grimmauld Place during Harry's fifth year, they had joked about the playboy in house arrest, but left it at that. And even then, he hadn't been a playboy, a womanizer, or a heartthrob for fifteen years.

He'd been popular with the girls at Hogwarts. His well-known background in an aristocratic and admittedly manic pure blood family had made his sorting into Gryffindor an interesting, thrilling contrast. Remus had often felt bleak next to him.

During the last four years, after the end of the war, the playboy jokes had become rare. Like he'd told Remus some week earlier, his life was less that he had thought it would be, but he didn't mind. Hadn't minded. When Teddy was a baby and Remus rather stayed at home with Tonks than visiting his old Marauder friend, Sirius had made an effort to go out, to socialize, to search for… someone. He'd met an awful lot of 'someones.' Deep down he knew he was searching for a woman who could be to him what Lily had been to James. A friend whose place in his heart would grow and grow for each time he saw her. Talked to her. Touched her. Someone he knew, respected and admired. Not the kind of ladies he met when he went to a pub with the double purpose of getting drunk and getting laid. He stayed at home more, until he became a bit of a recluse.

Slowly he spoke about thoughts he hadn't had in over two decades and never shared with anyone.

"You may not believe it, but I can emotionally involved. Growing up here," he gestured around the room, "didn't make it easy to show deeper feelings of any kind, though. I learned how to hide them instead. And then, from I was twenty-one, life has never been in sync with me. I lost the searching-for-a-soulmate-years in Azkaban. After that I had two years of constant fear of being brought back there. Then I was gone for two more years, which were blissfully void of any feelings. And on my second return everyone was haggard by the war, and I was, in a way, no older than twenty-one, because that was the last time I lived in a time I could relate my age and my experience to. But, as I've said, I manage my life within the borders I've chosen."

He pushed away his glass, suddenly aware of its content's effect on his ability to think, rather than rage.

"And then, less than a week ago, you pulled me far out of my comfort zone, asking me to do something of importance for someone we both, the whole Order care for. I've never done anything of importance in my life. Except for leaving this home at sixteen. And see where life has brought me? Right back."

He laughed bitterly, almost on the verge of his mad, break-down laughter.

"No, no, Sirius. You are very important. You're Harry's godfather, my best friend, a governor at Hogwarts, a guard against the dark, hidden forces."

"But I've never done anything!" Sirius roared at his friend. "Nothing good. I convinced James to change Secret Keepers. I went after Peter and got all those muggles killed and, on top of that, let the rat get away. I found him twelve years later, meant to kill him, but instead made Harry and myself a prey for the Dementors. Harry saved me from the mess I've made when I decided to do something. Perhaps the only constructive thing I've ever did was to die, there in front of the veil, to quill Bellatrix' blood-thirst for a second, and give the rest of you a chance."

Suddenly unable to sit still, he pushed back his chair and paced.

"And now, you and Kingsley pleaded with me to do this thing. This compassionate, good-for-the-greater-good thing. And well, just the thought of getting in the way of Lestrange's, or any Death Eater's, plans would have made me do just about anything, and, yes, I really thought I could handle it. Handle it as an adult, a professional Order member. Someone old enough to keep his emotions in check, but I couldn't. You threw Hermione into my arms, begged for some kind of legal protection, which I'm happy to give to anyone in the Order, or anyone on the right side of evil, but she's a person, Remus. A real person, not a chess game where you play two pieces along each other for protection, willing to sacrifice one if needs be."

He paused, evaluated his own metaphor, realized it made no sense, and continued without any paraphrasing.

"I've spent more time with her than anyone else the last week, or even month, and she isn't the fifteen-year-old she was. The fifteen-year-old who acted as we predicted, hell I doubt she did that even then. She's a…

_…terrified rape victim,_ he almost roared, feeling the bile rise at the thought of her quiet voice confiding in him.

"She's a what?" came Remus question in the quiet room.

"She's terrified, of course. Anyone in her right mind mentioned in connection with Lestrange should be. I was the one to cut that connection, and I promised her I wouldn't force myself on her."

"But you didn't, did you? If she had the potion as well, she'd…" Mercifully Remus didn't finish the sentence.

"No, I didn't. I don't think I did. The point is that I still can't grasp the fact of the love potion. I would have wanted her anyway. I still do."

They sat in silence for a while. Remus sipped his fire whiskey and went back to study the wall behind Sirius' head.

"And I have no idea where she is now."

"When did she leave?"

"Early. Eight-ish." He checked his watch. "It's twelve hour ago. She's not at your place, I take it?"

"No, no of course not. Tonks and I have spent the day at home, 'til you fooed me."

"The Burrow?"

"I doubt it. Molly came over to see Tonks earlier, and she would definitely have told us. We all agreed that you would stay here."

"I know," Sirius sighed. "I didn't exactly kick her out. She decided to leave."

They heard the entrance door open and quick steps on the floor.

"It's her," they said in unison.

"Get lost, go home, Remus. I'll talk to you later. Maybe tomorrow."

Remus took a handful of floo-powder, and Sirius headed towards the door. He saw Hermione walk into the kitchen, and followed her. When he entered, she stood with her back to him, busying herself with making tea. She wore a black cloak, even though it was a warm summer day.

"Hermione," he said from the door, trying to keep a concerned tone. No rage, worry, guilt or, most importantly, drunkenness.

She poured the boiling water into a teapot, and the scent of the bitter Assam tea she favoured reached his nose. Couldn't she drink flower-scented tea, like other girls? She turned around and put the pot on the table, then met his eyes. Her expression was a mixture of opposite feelings. Determination and doubt, confidence and insecurity. But no sadness. Sirius focused on the lack of sadness he'd been so aware of during the previous week.

"Sirius," she answered. "Tea?"

They sat down, opposite each other. He didn't know where to begin.

"I'm glad you're back."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Where have you been?"

"At work."

"At work?! It's… it's… it's summer vacation, and we're should be cooped up here in our sham honey moon. You're not supposed to sneak off to Hogwarts to do research, or whatever."

"I wasn't supposed to end up in your bed last night, either, in this sham wedding, so don't tell me what I'm supposed or not supposed to do," she snapped, and ruined his forced calm temper.

"I was worried!" he roared. "I missed you! I had no idea where you were or if you were coming back. I was beginning to think the last week was a dream, or a night mare, or whatever."

She remained unfazed.

"Yes, the perception of reality and fantasy often gets confused when you drink. You smell like a brewery."

He took a gulp of tea, and wished he'd been totally sober. She'd have the upper hand even then, but even more so now.

"Look, I'm really sorry about yesterday," he said in a low voice, "I promise you I had no idea. I'm not that desperate. I wish…"

She held up her hand to stop him.

"I believe you. Almost. But I'm confused, and suspicious. Maybe not towards you, at least not that much. Are you still keeping some parts of this wedding sham secret for me, Sirius?"

_ No. None other than I didn't realize for a minute, during or after, that I was love-potioned. You're just as beautiful and alluring now than last night. Don't pull those pins out of your hair, I can't think when you do that._

"No," he answered, a beat too slow.

"And because of that tiny hesitation, before your 'no,' I have a proposition for you." She opened her bag and took out two vials.

"Your brother's potion the other day was a Felix Felicis with a twist. This is a Veritaserum with a twist." She wiggled one of the vials.

Sirius shuddered and felt sweat brake out on his back.

"If you'll take it, you'll not only answer my direct questions, you'll also tell me all information you feel related to the subject of my question. Would you be willing to take this, Sirius?"

**Keep sending me encouragement and feedback. I love it!**

**Love, Kia**


	14. His Heart on his Sleeve

_"If you'll take this potion, you'll not only answer my direct questions, you'll also tell me all information you feel related to the subject of my question. Would you be willing to take this, Sirius?"_

"I've never heard about that potion before," he avoided the question.

"No, no one has. I've made it myself, and no one else knows the recipe."

"Is it safe? Have you tested it?"

Hermione sighed and pushed her hair back.

"Sirius. I'm the Potions teacher at Hogwarts. I may not be professor Snape, but, on the other hand, I've directed my research into different areas. I'm very good. And I've tested it."

"On whom?"

"Luna. Last summer. She volunteered. I trust her completely and she trusts me. I've asked her not to tell anyone about it, and just as she's kept quiet about Lestrange, she's kept quiet about this. This potion could be a dreadful weapon in the wrong hands, so I've kept my discovery a secret, and will continue to do so. Now, do you trust me?"

_ Now, that is almost a rhetorical question. How can I say no?_

"If I take this, I'll spill all the secrets of my heart to you, is that what you're saying?" he said, running his hands through his hair, feeling the damp sweat in its roots.

"Not the ones I'm not asking about," she answered. "And I'll be as honest I can with you too. But by my free will."

"So I'm giving up my free will to you?"

"Just for a while." She gave him a cheeky smile. "It wears off."

He reached out his hand, palm up, and she handed the vial to him. Trying to think of nothing at all, he uncorked it and swallowed. Typically it had a fruity taste. Peachy.

He was aware of all the anxiety he'd felt during the day leaving him. He looked into Hermione's beautiful, brown eyes and wanted nothing more than tell her everything. In an instant she was the most important person in the universe, how could he not have known that before? Pictures of Harry, Remus and even James floated through his mind, but were soon forgotten and deemed unimportant. He smiled and felt immense gratitude when she smiled back at him.

"I really was worried, you know, love," he began in an all-together different voice than before.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you I needed to get away. I was thrown off balance, I've never had love potion before, and even though I know everything about it, academically, I never imagined it would… affect me. Or that I wouldn't realize its effects. Has anyone ever tricked you to take love potion, before?"

"No, never. And I don't know much about it, academically or otherwise. When I was young, I sneered at the mere thought of anyone needing it. My ego was as big as the moon."

"So, I've heard," Hermione said with a smile. "And it isn't anymore?"

"I don't think so. No. Quite the contrary. I know Molly thinks I'm tragic, living here by myself, and maybe I am, but I've chosen it, because I can't really deal with the world at large. I don't want to. Whenever I've tried, it's ended in disaster. If I hadn't convinced James…"

"Sirius, no. Don't go there. It was not your fault. You need to put that behind you at some point. Please try."

It was easier than ever to stop thinking about his guilt concerning the Potters. When she said it, it just sank down in his mind until it lay still at the bottom of his well of memories. And she was right. His intent had been right, but the consequences had been out of his control.

"About yesterday," she continued, "did you potion the wine?"

"No."

"Have you got any idea about who did? And put it in your kitchen?"

"No."

"Thank you. But about yesterday, about what happened, quite frankly, I'm appalled."

His heart sank.

"No, no, not by you. About myself," she added quickly when she saw his reaction. "I've never… I've never enjoyed sex. Never. With anyone. Until yesterday. But when I woke up this morning, and the scents were gone, and my brain could focus on other things than how you felt and smelled and tasted, and I realized it hadn't been for real, I kind of… I don't know, overreacted? fled in shame?"

She blushed in the most charming way. He took her hand and drew it to his lips, kissing it lightly.

"Sweetie, don't say that. You were amazing, Hogwarts' sexiest professor by far for hundreds of years. A wet dream."

Hermione inhaled a mouthful of tea and coughed, her face turning crimson. Sirius had a hunch that was perhaps not the most appropriate phrasing, but he had absolutely no way of censoring himself. Hermione steered the conversation back on track.

"When Harry, Ron and I was in our sixth year, professor Slughorn showed us love potion, he even let us smell it. To me it smelled like new parchment, fresh cut grass, spearmint toothpaste and something more I couldn't identify. I wanted to dive into that cauldron, but I didn't of course, and later I was embarrassed, but really memorized what scents the potion had evoked in me, to be able to recognize them. As if anyone would ever try to love potion me, who would do that?"

Her last words were indeed a question and Sirius felt compelled to answer.

"Anyone. Everyone. Not me. I mean, I didn't. But I would have, if I wanted to potion anyone. Then it would be you. With love potion. Can you tell me to shut up?"

"Sirius, that's enough. Let me continue." He nodded in silence. "But yesterday, it was like the theoretical part of my brain just wouldn't cooperate, and I can tell you that has never happened before. I could feel the new cut grass from the garden…"

Sirius chuckled.

"That grass hasn't been cut since I left home almost twenty years ago. It was my task to cut it, and when I left, my mother just ignored it. It was obviously more important to have me doing something, than what I did."

"I realized that this morning. And I could feel the scent of new parchment in a library that mostly smells of dust, and, frankly Sirius, a hint of mould. We should really…"

"Yes, I know. You are free to do whatever necessary to make it your library."

"And the spearmint… Well, it just added up. I was so at loss. It was if I didn't have a free will. Well, I had, but all I wanted was you. I've never felt that before. How did it affect you?"

_All I wanted was you. Past tense. Fuck. Fucked._

A slightly uneasy feeling came over Sirius, but when he looked into her eyes, it went away.

"I also felt scents. Of you. You smell like peaches, tea, fresh linen and… you. The thing is, you always smell like that. Maybe I shouldn't have kissed you when we were at the Ministry the other day, I think it confused me more than it did you. You must have noticed. I've forbidden myself to pine over you young girls before, I knew it would drive me mental, but there we were, you in that see-through dress and the minister watching and I just wanted to convince her, but got so confused by you and your touch and how you tasted and…" He ran out of breath and took a sip of tea and some deep breaths. "You are exceptional, Hermione. For someone who lives a life like mine, to have a beautiful, young woman, whom I've admired since you were a teenager, thrown into my arms, with a marriage proposal, was… I don't know, a miracle. I know we haven't been that close since I came back, partly because of my anti-social ways, partly because of your… sadness, you've also withdrawn from the world, compared with how you were at fifteen. And when you told me why, when you told me about what Lestrange did to you, I was as angry as I was the night James and Lily died. Not only because of his assault, but of, what I believe, is the reason you're not the spirited, snappy, argumentative girl I met nine years ago. And I know that I thought I wouldn't try to seduce you, at least not now, since I don't know how hurt, how traumatized you are by…"

He made a little weak gesture with his hand that didn't hold hers, and didn't finish the sentence. She looked at him, expressionless and he continued spilling his heart.

"But you said that my touch didn't… take you back, didn't reminded you…"

"No, it doesn't." She stroked his chin and he closed his eyes for a second, before he felt the need to continue telling her what went through his mind.

"I started dreaming about you after that day at the Ministry. I woke up and thought you were beside me, but you weren't. And yesterday, when we put on the show at the Ministry, I went almost mad with wanting you. I tried to tell myself that you were acting, but it was next to impossible. And when we came back here I wanted to die when you withdrew and asked about those fucking 'Pure Britain.' And then we toasted and…"

"You wanted me before we came here? Before the wine?" Hermione's voice was amazed.

"Of course I did!" He sighed and raked his finger through his hair. "Don't you know how lovely you are? Stunning. Did you see yourself in that dress? Have you any idea how good your hands feel on my body? Or that I can't look into your eyes when I see your naked shoulders? And the scents you go on about, I have a canine sense of smell, and you smell heavenly anyway, potion or not. I thought I'd died and finally gone to heaven when you turned around yesterday, but, as you said, I couldn't really think straight."

"So this isn't all a sham to keep the Order strong and protected to you?"

"In a way I wish it was, and I tried, but it isn't. I can't think of a greater bliss than having you, within the Order, and with me, but when you left this morning I realize you don't…"

"Shhh," Hermione whispered. "Don't go on, don't draw conclusions about me. I think we've talked enough. You're going to want to go on telling me everything on your mind, but I think you should stop now."

She reached for the other vial.

"This is a quick sedative. I suggest you go upstairs, take it and sleep it off. I promise I'll never humiliate you with what you've told me. I needed to know you had nothing to do with the wine yesterday, but, as I said, you told me everything you thought were related to my questions. Let's begin again tomorrow, on how to make this work. This marriage.

_She didn't add 'sham' before 'marriage.'_

The first potion began to wear off, and Sirius took the other vial from her. He left the kitchen before his brain could communicate more things for his mouth to say.

**But who put the potioned wine in the pantry? Give me guesses, give me love and I'll reward you with next chapter.**

**Love, Kia**


	15. Truth without Potion

His room was pitch dark when he woke up. Not a hint of dawn on the starry sky he saw from his bed. He was thirsty and had a headache. The thought of fire whiskey made his stomach squirm.

He drank greedily from the tap in the bathroom, then faced himself in the mirror. His grey eyes were a bit bloodshot, and his hair shaggy. His short beard could do with a trimming. When the hissings in the old water pipes stopped, he was aware of another sound. His hearing was nowhere near Remus', but still more canine then human. He heard voices downstairs.

Silently he crept down the stairs. When he'd still lived at home, he'd magically silenced the creaking steps that would have given him away when he brought home a girl, or just stayed out late. No one had ever noticed. You notice creaking steps in a staircase, but steps that are silent, even in a house that is falling apart, will never catch your attention.

The kitchen door was closed, even though he could have sworn he'd left it open when he went up earlier.

"…but neither of us knew, Tonks," he heard Hermione's voice.

"Oh," came the short reply from Sirius' cousin, before a long silence. There was something off with the inflection of Tonks' voice.

_ Both you and Remus can confuse me with a simple 'oh.' But what are you doing here Tonks? _

Sirius stood absolutely still. On the wall next to the kitchen door, a row of hangers held old cloaks, and Sirius eased himself in between two itchy, mothball-smelling garments. In the dim light in the hall, he would be next to invisible if Hermione or Tonks left the kitchen.

"But, how was it? Did you enjoy it?" Tonks giggled.

"What? Oh! Well, yes…" Sirius could hear Hermione's embarrassment, and chuckled under his breath. "Well, Tonks, since you ask, I can admit that it was mind-blowing, spectacular, but it wasn't real."

"Was too," came his cousin's response. "You said so yourself. And I've never seen him like he is around you with anyone. Truly."

"But he's had tons of women."

"A bit exaggerated perhaps, but still. He almost growls when he sees you with someone else. Trust me, sweetie, it's not un-real. Perhaps not conventional, but I can't see why you wouldn't get along just super."

"But this is for the Order!" Hermione protested.

"Who said it can't be both? Aren't you off to bed soon? You look absolutely knackered. I'll clean up before I floo home."

"You're right, I am. Thanks Tonks. Good night."

Sirius pressed himself to the wall when Hermione passed less than a yard on his right side, and continued to watch her slowly go up the stairs. The muscles in her calves flexed with each step and he felt his mouth go dry as a piece of parchment. When he heard her close her door three floors above him he left the spot he'd been hiding at, and entered the kitchen.

Tonks gave a little squeak of surprise when he cleared his throat behind her, but gave him a mischievous grin when she saw him.

"A bit late for a social call, Tonks?"

"I just wanted to check on Hermione," she said with a tone he couldn't really decipher. Remus said she'd been away…"

"Bosh! Somehow I believe you would have turned up anyway, wouldn't you?"

When he saw an uncertain glint in her eyes that were so like his own, he knew he was tight and had the upper hand.

"I don't know what you mean, Sirius. Hermione and I are friends, we often…"

"But Hermione and I are supposed to want privacy, and even if that's the official version, you'd know better than to meddle with that. You're here to see how your plan worked out."

She took a step back, until the worktop made it impossible for her to get further away from him. He continued towards her and faced her so close it was almost difficult to focus on her features.

"You put the potioned bottle in my pantry, didn't you?"

She didn't answer, just pressed her lips into a thin line, and that was all the answer he needed.

"I should have known the Ministry wouldn't waste that particularly expensive wine on us. They had already given their publicity reception, with tasteless chardonnay. But it's your favourite brand, and mine, which I'm certain you know. We got drunk together on it countless times when we were younger. But why the love potion, Tonks? Why put Hermione through such an out-of-control experience? You know she needs control, that it's important to her to feel that she controls the situation."

Tonks glared at him, now irritation in her eyes.

"Don't be such a gentleman, Sirius. It doesn't become you at all. And you enjoyed it. Enjoyed her. So did she. Why are you so hung-up about sex, all of a sudden? You've never been before. Hermione and you will be good, perfect together, you already are. You need each other, both of you. Why so concerned?"

Sirius clenched his teeth, fearing one or two molars would crack. He muttered a silent Fidelius Charm, before he spoke.

"Because Hermione's a rape victim. And I just made myself Secret Keeper of that information, so you can't tell anyone. But that's one of the reasons she needs to be in control. Other reasons have to do with the war, I guess, like all of us."

Tonks paled.

"Who?"

"You don't need to know that."

"Lestrange?"

Sirius' expression gave her all the answer she needed.

"I should have guessed."

"Why? Because of the original list of marriages?"

"No," she said darkly.

Sirius' anger and irritation melted away at her tone. He grabbed her by her shoulders, feeling her muscles tense up.

"Tonks," he said quietly and concerned. "Why?"

The muscles around her eyes twitched, but she didn't look away.

"He tried to feel me up when I was fourteen. That was the last time I visited the Lestrange Castle. There is something seriously wrong with that man. He is as twisted and dangerous as they come, bloody Death Eaters."

"And you never told anyone, Tonks?"

"No, why would I? My parents wouldn't have had a chance against him. The authorities wouldn't have believed a young girl."

"I would have believed you."

"Yes, you would. And been sent to Azkaban for a murder you'd actually committed. But he didn't get that far. I kicked him in the balls and ran."

"Good," Sirius said with a suppressed chuckle.

"I didn't know Hermione had been raped, but that does of course explain her disastrous love life. I can understand why Ron broke off with her."

"Tonks," Sirius growled warningly.

"No, I mean, she turned to an ice queen every time he tried to touch her. I remember seeing them doing the dishes at the Burrow once. They kissed, a little awkwardly, and then he drew her closer and kissed her on her cheek or neck, or whatever, but I could see her eyes then, and there was nothing but pain and panic. Poor girl."

Sirius sighed and couldn't make up his mind if he was furious with his cousin or not.

"She doesn't look like that with you, Sirius. I noticed the same day Kingsley gave us the news. She trusts you. And you adore her. Please, try to make it work."

"I will, Tonks. I will. Now, please Nympadora, will you leave my house and go home? You've meddled enough."

Her hair flashed a deep violet purple when he used her full name, before it went back to black.

"Just enough, I'd say. One day you'll thank me."

"One day I might kill you."

"I love you too."

The green flames in the fireplace faded and Sirius was alone.

* * *

Finally he found Hermione, the next morning, in the garden, talking to a group of garden gnomes. He'd searched the house for her, seeing her bed being slept in, a used teacup in the kitchen and a read Daily Prophet on the kitchen table. A picture of Hermione and himself had made the front page, and he found himself lost in watching her beaming at the photographer, turning to him and kiss him, cupping his jaw with her hand with the glittering engagement ring and plain wedding band, over and over.

The library had been empty as well, but her voice had reached him through the slightly open French windows.

From the shadows he watched her. She was dressed in faded jeans and a white, loose shirt, and her hair hung lose around her face. She was kneeling in front of the gnomes, talking to them.

Sirius frowned. He'd always found the garden gnomes disgusting, almost sickening. He remembered them biting his calves when he'd mowed the lawn as a boy, and then run away laughing when he'd tried to hit or kick them. Nowadays he hardly saw them. The only times he entered the garden was when he felt like fetching firewood the muggle way, from the shed at the end of the walled garden. Then he sometimes saw a few, or heard them giggling from an overgrown shrubbery. He didn't like seeing Hermione speaking to them, at least not so close, and he was surprised of how many they were. About twenty of the ugly little manikins were gathered around her. On the other hand, his garden that had been neglected for two decades must be a paradise for them, and he could imagine them thriving.

"You'll be much better off with Luna and her father. They have a larger garden, just as beautiful as this," Hermione told them. She gestured to the dead ornamental trees, the knee-high grass the texture of hay, the heaps of rotting oak leaves and the dry small fountain, almost unidentifiable under layers of alga or moss or whatever.

The gnomes discussed this in grunts and whispers, and Sirius interpreted their nods as them being positive to the idea. Somehow they communicated this to Hermione.

"Lovely," she said with a smile Sirius would have given a fortune, or his left hand for. "Luna will come here later and you can go home with her this evening. Go and pack your things."

The gnomes made themselves scarce in the high grass. Sirius opened the glass door wider, and Hermione turned around by the creaking of the hinges.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him.

"Yes, thank you." _But I woke up hugging a pillow I had dreamt was you, with a painful hard-on, and you weren't there. Shit, did I say that out loud?_

"Sirius, can I ask you a favour?"

_ Obviously didn't say that out loud. Good._

"Anything, love."

"Would you be OK with me fixing the garden? It's summer, we need to do research, the Order will be gathering again here soon, wouldn't it be nicer to be outside than in the kitchen?"

"Fix this garden? Are you mad? This is beyond repair. You can pour tarmac over it, that would be an improvement, but make it into a garden, that is impossible."

"Please?"

"Of course. If you want to spend time here for weeks on end, be my guest, but I'm telling you…"

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, and he got no further.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He cupped her face in his hands and she stopped bouncing like a wild puppy.

"Anything, Hermione. Anything."

And he pressed his lips to her soft cheek and inhaled the essence of her. She took a tentative step closer to him and he let his lips move along her jawline. She made a little sound, placed her hands on his upper arms, but didn't push him away. Her hands shivered slightly, and slowly he drew her against him, and continued pushing his luck. When his lips reached the corner of her mouth she gasped, and he silently thanked deities he didn't believe in. Her lips were already parted when he kissed her, and she tasted home and love and the absence of all anxiety and nightmares.

The sound of the doorbell broke the blissful silence in the morning sun, soon followed by mutterings from Mrs Black's portrait.

"That'll be Luna," Hermione whispered against his lips. "You asked her to come and mend the tapestry and I've given her the garden's entire population of gnomes. I hope you don't mind that."

He shook his head, and pulled her to him one more time before letting her go.

"Just her timing. I'll show her the family tree then, and you… Well, you do whatever you want with the garden, but remember I'd consider tarmac an improvement."

**Personally I'd stay with Sirius on the porch all day long, but the plot of this story needs more than kisses. **

**But you'd like some kisses too, right?**

**Love, Kia**


	16. The Tapestry

**Thank you for your thumbs up. Here's a chapter that will bring some new twists and turns in the plot.**

Sirius opened the most closed door in the house to the young, blonde witch. He'd never liked the huge tapestry of this family lineage. When he'd returned to Grimmauld Place six years ago, and saw his own spot in the tapestry a burnt hole he'd laughed out loud. He didn't now. He really wanted to have it repaired. He couldn't hide from the fact that he was the last pure blood Black, the heir of the title and whatever came with it. He wasn't proud of it, and was delighted to be the one to put an end to the Black family's purity.

Luna stared at the walls. She went closer, and Sirius could see her wrinkle her nose when she looked into the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. The pictures in the tapestry were still, not like magic paintings, and that fact alone made the room spooky to the witch and wizard who were used to the moving images of magical portraits and photos.

Luna had stopped in front of the burnt hole with Sirius' name beneath it. She touched it carefully.

"Do you think you can repair it?" he asked silently. The walls swallowed much of the sounds and his question came out no louder than a whisper.

Luna examined the fabric more closely, touched the portrait of Regulus, as if to compare, before she spoke.

"Yes, definitely."

"And put in a new family member? Hermione?"

"Yes. Have you got today's Prophet? The picture of Hermione is lovely, I'd like to use it."

Sirius ran down and brought the paper back. When he returned, Luna stood in front of Bellatrix picture again, with a mixture of disgust and hatred in her usually open and friendly face. Sirius stopped in the door. Without looking at him, she spoke.

"Would you like me to remove some members from the tapestry, Sirius?" She didn't have to tell him whom she meant, and suddenly he understood.

Luna had also been held prisoner at the Lestrange Castle. She might also have personal experience of Bellatrix' torture, even Lestrange's. And Bellatrix had been the one to cast endless _crucio_ curses at Neville's parents and made them loose their sanity, in the first war. Luna was going to marry Neville soon, but they had been together for a long time, and Sirius was convinced Neville had brought Luna to see his parents at St. Mungo's. Luna was so open minded, Sirius could imagine her trying to follow Alice Longbottom's ramblings, and try to talk to the ever silent Frank Longbottom.

He took a step towards her and stood close enough for her to feel his presence. With as much firmness he could muster he answered her question.

"Luna. This tapestry is dreadful. It's an ornament of outdated, sick, elitistic beliefs I've never believed in, and certainly don't now. But it's here, and I'm still alive, and I will change the ways of the Black family. So, please repair my picture, add Hermione's, but don't remove Bellatrix. She's dead, but in the images she's left behind she'll always be in a family tree of mixed blood. If you'll help me. Can you see it my way?"

Luna stood silent for a few more seconds, then faced him and smiled.

"I can see it you way. Now, give me the picture of Hermione and you. And go and sit over there so I can ask you, if I'm uncertain."

He ripped off the first page of the Prophet and went to sit in an armchair in the other side of the room. He watched Luna stick the paper to the tapestry with a silent sticking charm and get to work. She brushed away the burnt treads around his place in the family tree and held up different skeins of thin wool to the background of the tapestry. Soon she was rebuilding the contours of Sirius' portrait in the mended cloth, sometimes checking the magically attached picture, and sometimes by looking at him directly. He mostly looked at the picture of Hermione and himself, but then a thought hit him.

"Luna, are you good with sticking charms? Like the one you've used with the photo?"

She turned to him and watched him quizzically for a minute.

"You're asking me about your mother's portrait in the hall, aren't you?"

Sirius agreed, that had been the focus of his interest, but then another revelation came to him.

"She didn't… She didn't scream her usual obscenities when you came? Why didn't she? She never misses a chance to insult everyone she doesn't like, and you don't know her, so she definitely doesn't like you. What did you do? Do you know how to get the picture down?"

Luna looked a little embarrassed.

"Firstly, I don't know what kind of sticking charm she used, and if you've tried to undo it with everything you know, I doubt I can add much to that. But, as for why she didn't scream at me, my father gave me a solid piece of advice for once. He wasn't happy with me going here today, even though he'd always believed you were all right. Even when you were in prison. And when your brother was pardoned, he said he'd always suspected that too. But he's afraid of the pure bloods' beliefs, I think it's one of few things he's really afraid of, because he doesn't understand the concept. He is pure blood himself, but I'm not, but it's never been important. He argues that the purity in a person comes from within, through achievements and efforts. He was surprised that Neville is pure blood, even though we'd been together for years before we even talked about it. Father thinks Neville is much too clever, and much too decent to be a pure blood. Unfortunately, people like…" She made a gesture towards Bellatrix and Narcissa and their respective husbands that said more than enough. "Well, have given him ideas that most pure bloods are evil."

"He's right, you know. Many are."

"But when I was coming here today he told me how to behave to be safe. He told me to think about myself as pure, since my heart is pure, and if someone I didn't know talked to me I would just mumble "Toujours pur" like a password or something."

"And that kept my mother silent?" Sirius asked, amazed.

"Yes."

"I've never been able to silence her, I've just drawn the curtains, and sent a silencing charm her way every time I pass the hall, but this was interesting. Thank you Luna."

Luna went back to work. One of the walls in the room had windows, but with heavy curtains drawn as not to let the sunshine harm the old family chronicle. Shadows flew across the covered windows, and Sirius wondered what Hermione was doing with the garden. Would she really be able to make it into something nice? Something resembling a garden at all? He doubted it, but didn't mind her trying her hand at something creative. He opened the Prophet. A familiar face met his gaze, but at first he couldn't place it. The caption informed him it was the young administrator, Jon Eckhart, that Hermione and he had met at the Ministry. The picture showed him, his wife and their children, all beaming at the photographer.

"Ministry Official Poster Boy for New Deal," the heading read. The article was about a new kind of day care facility provided by the Ministry. Apparently parents left their children at a kind of 'kindergarten', Sirius had never heard the word before, a nice place with indoors and outdoors playgrounds, with staff who looked after the children while both parents worked.

Sirius frowned. Both parents working? Quite unusual. His own mother had never worked a day in her life. This never meant that she'd been a homemaker like Molly Weasley, Regulus and himself had had nannies, and later tutors who prepared them for Hogwarts. His brother and he had never been away from home alone before the Hogwarts Express took them away at the age of eleven. Was this what the New Deal was about? Getting both parents to work, to contribute to the magical community by paid employment? Sounded odd.

"Luna? If you and Neville have children, would you like to work outside your home? As employed, I mean?"

She gave him a look that clearly said she found the question bizarre.

"Employed? But who would take care of my children?"

"The Ministry suggests something called 'kindergartens', where your children can play while you are at work."

"But why would I want to do that? I write articles for The Quibbler, but I do that from home. If I have children, I would want to raise them myself. With Neville, of course. I wouldn't trust the Ministry with my children. It sounds horrible. Work for someone else and not even be able to spend time with your own children. And getting home all tired and not have the energy to play with them. Sounds just like a stupid Ministry idea. It'll never catch on. Or how will you and Hermione do?"

It took him a minute to realize what she meant.

"But Luna, you're in the Order. You know that Hermione and I got married just to keep her from Lestrange. We won't have children."

"Well, I know about Lestrange, but you are in love, aren't you?"

"Well… maybe. It's complicated. We're…"

In the silence that followed his unfinished sentence, Luna started humming and continued to embroider Sirius' image on the wall.

_ It's just Luna, she sees what she wants to see._

_ But she wants to see you and Hermione in love. That's what you want too, isn't it?_

_ Yes, but what if it doesn't…_

_ But what if it does, you bloody pessimist?_

_ Yeah, what if? What would we do if we had children? Would I continue in my mother's footsteps and stay at home and ignore them?_

_ You could stay home and don't ignore them. Teach them better things than your mother's tutors taught Regulus and you._

On the next page of the Prophet Bill and Fleur Weasley looked back at him.

"New Benefit Program for Families with Underage Children."

The short paragraph informed about a monetary child support to every child, no matter whether the family was rich or not. Fifty galleons a month per child, and even more if you had more than three children. Sirius didn't know whether to be appalled or surprised by the Ministry's generosity. Since he himself always had had more money than he could spend, it sounded a bit like the Ministry was paying the magical population of Britain to produce as large families as possible. But when he thought about the Weasley family, Arthur and Molly's family, he realized this benefit program would be welcome in many families. Fleur was quoted in the text. "Of course we are grateful to the Ministry for this new idea." Sirius wondered if she had wanted to add a "but" to that quote. The Prophet had always been the Ministry's paper. If the Ministry was, once again, secretly run but untrustworthy people, he couldn't read it as unbiased news reporting. He decided to ask Luna for a subscription to The Quibbler before she left.

A series of loud bangs from the garden made him jump. He parted the curtains, but could only see the part closest to the wall from where he was standing. He opened the window and called down to Hermione.

"Is everything all right, honey?"

She came into view, sweaty and dirty, and grinned up at him.

"Everything is fine, Sirius. I decided I didn't like the fountain."

"Good. Neither did I. Let me know if you need help."

"I don't. Let me finish this alone."

He closed the window and returned to the armchair. He studied the still faces of all his ancestors, not able to name more than a handful. The face above his mother's drew his attention. Pollux Black. His maternal grandfather. He needed to visit Tonks' mother, where Tonks had said Pollux Black most often were.

"How many of these people do you actually like, Sirius?" Luna asked.

He chuckled.

"I hardly know them. I like Tonks and her family. It would be great if you could repair her mother's portrait as well. And my uncle Alphard was a nice fellow. Over there," he pointed at the opposite corner of where he sat, "are some ancestors of Harry's. James and I were related somehow. And the whole Wealsey family is dear to me. The Malfoy's I could definitely live without."

"But they are reformed, aren't they?" Luna asked.

_ You are such a sweet, but gullible girl, Luna. The Malfoys reformed? So they said after the first war, and then kept their old ways hidden but very much alive._

"I'm not sure, Luna. I'd never trust Lucius completely."

"Draco is good. He's going to marry Cho Chang. They've had a secret relationship for years. She's having a baby, quite soon. When it came out, Draco's parents were delighted, even though Cho isn't pure blood. I think you are wrong about them."

_ Think what you like, but Lucius and Narcissa are un-reformable. Draco? I'll believe it when I see it._

"I hope so, Luna, I really do."

Sirius returned his attention to the forest-like walls of the room.

"I think there is a Longbottom somewhere. But right now I'm mostly curious about that man." He pointed at Pollux Black. "My mother's father. I don't know much about him, but I'm trying to find him in one of his paintings. I think he might be helpful for what the Order is facing."

"Pollux? Oh, you'll love him. He was more pro-muggle than Arthur Weasley is. I'm surprised you mother didn't destroyed his picture here as well."

"You know him? How? Why didn't you tell me?"

"But I am telling you, Sirius. You've just never asked me before. He's always at your cousin's place…"

"I know that."

"… and he's very chatty. My father goes there often to discuss conspiracies and alternative life styles. Muggle life styles, I guess. Pollux is nothing like the rest of your family."

_ My grandfather was a rebel. How come I never knew? I'll visit Andromeda tomorrow._

**I really needed to get this story moving. Give me some feedback, constructive or otherwise, and I'll have the smoochiest chapter yet up tomorrow. **

**Love, Kia**


	17. The Garden

**Somehow, I think you'll like this...**

The setting sun blinded him. Hermione had opened all the curtains in the library and cleaned and opened the three French windows. She was nowhere to be seen but an unfamiliar scent made him shade his eyes and go out on the porch.

The garden, his garden, was… a proper garden. The heaps of dry, dead plants were gone. The oak was considerably smaller, with ivy climbing its stem. The walls looked white washed, the shed straight. The borders around the garden and the porch were full of peonies, columbines and anemones, and hollyhocks and delphiniums leaned against the house. The lawn was as smooth as velvet. A row of submerged stones made a curvy path to the oak that had a garden bench built around it, then the path divided and lead to the shed and the other far corner of the garden. When he'd been young, his mother had planted roses everywhere. Large, thorny, dark red and with a sickeningly sweet scent. His mother had also liked to keep a border of nettles around the garden, to keep uninvited guest out. He could see neither roses, nor nettles in the garden now.

_ Tarmac? How could I suggest tarmac? How could I doubt her? But where is she?_

He called but got no answer. He went inside and once he reached the hall his nose could tell him where she was. Humid, soap smelling whiffs came from the downstairs bathroom.

Unasked his brain immediately conjured the picture of her in the shower, or the bathtub, and he groaned. The bathroom door was slightly ajar.

_ Why has she left the door open? If she wanted privacy she would have locked it._

He tiptoed to the door and peeked in.

She was in the shower, and he could only see her calves and her shoulders, the rest of her was hidden by the half-walls of the shower cubicle.

_Oh, Merlin, her shoulders. How can anyone's shoulders be so beautiful?_

Hermione tilted her head back and to let the water rinse away the shampoo. She sighed and stretched her shoulders, unaware of what her movements did to her peeping-tom-husband.

Absentmindedly Sirius made some tea and sandwiches when Hermione entered the kitchen. She wore the same yellow dress she had worn at the Ministry, and her hair was still wet from the shower.

"Oh, I'm hungry. Have you seen your garden?"

He faced her with a tray and nodded.

"Amazing. You are truly amazing. Tea will be served in the garden."

Sirius sat on the steps between the porch and the garden, and watched Hermione walk around the garden, telling him about the different plants. He was interested, but rather distracted by the low sun that gave him more interesting view than the garden itself.

_ I told her that dress is transparent. Why does she wear it? Does she want me to loose my mind? Or does she want me to see her as good as naked?_

"And that might be important, don't you think?" Hermione said.

"Huh? What?" He had no idea what she had said.

"Dittany and vervain to produce medical potions."

"Yes, of course. Please, come and have some tea."

She joined him on the steps and sipped the offered cup.

"I'm sorry I doubted you. I should have known you could do just about anything you put your mind to."

"What do you think about the lawn, Sirius?"

"I will now impress you with my huge knowledge about the muggle world. It's a golf garden."

Hermione giggled and corrected him. She stretched her bare legs in front of her and leaned back on her elbows.

_ Either way I risk dying. Here we go._

"Do you really think it's safe with this perfect lawn?"

She squinted up at him, the sun painting shadow eyelashes a mile long above her chocolate brown eyes.

"Safe?"

"Well, someone has to mow it. And the scent of new cut grass might… I don't know, play tricks with your mind?"

He smiled mischievously down at her.

"Yes, that is of course a risk," she agreed, smiling back. "I didn't think about that. What do you say, should we order some tarmac tomorrow?"

"Or maybe you can handle it?"

"Maybe, maybe not…"

_ She is flirting back with me. Don't ruin it, don't…_

"Do you feel up to a test?" he asked.

"A test?"

He drew his wand and pointed it towards the grass.

"If I were to cast a cutting spell on just a small part of the grass, do you think you could handle that?"

Hermione tilted her head even further back and closed her eyes.

"Do that, and we'll see what happens. I'll might be able to control myself."

_ I hope not._

Sirius muttered a cutting spell on the closest patch of grass, cutting it no more than a few millimetres. He then leaned back and watched her.

Her nostrils flared and she smiled.

"I don't know Sirius, you need to cut some more, to make the test realistic. It's difficult to know what a whole new cut lawn would do to me if I haven't tried it empirically."

A few flicks of his wrist left every blade of grass about four millimetres shorter. He could see her cheeks blush. He leaned in, close enough to feel her breath against his lips.

"Well?"

Without opening her eyes, she answered his question.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I'm in over my head. Definitely unable to control myself."

She lifted her head an inch and kissed him, slowly at first but soon as hungrily as he answered. She straddled him on the steps and let her lips wander down his neck, while her fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

_ If this is a dream, I'll kill myself._

She giggled and bit him carefully along his collarbone.

"Don't worry, it's not a dream."

_ Oh, said that out loud?_

"Is your potion still in my system? Will I still tell you everything than goes through my mind?"

"Only the things you chose. Is there something you want to tell me?" She bit his shoulder rather sharply before she licked the place and blew on it.

"Only that I want to strip you of this dress and bite you just as hard," he bit the skin on the inside of her wrist, "and then lick you all over," he licked the inside of her arm, over the hideous scar, "and have you make those little noises that turn me on beyond all sanity," her drew her earlobe into his mouth and was rewarded with a low moan. And then I want to love you painfully slowly until you'll beg me to take you faster." His hands crept up her thighs, cupped her bottom and drew her closer.

Her breaths came in gasps as he continued down her neck with his lips and tongue, and his fingers peeled away the straps of the dress.

"And then?" she panted.

"Then I will. And you will come all over me and scream loud enough to wake the dead."

She crashed her lips to his, and he felt a tiny tinge of blood in their violent kiss. He bit her lower lip and she moaned and ground herself against him.

"And then?" she whispered.

"Then I'll do it again."

"When?" she hiccupped shakily.

"Now," he growled and rose from the steps. She winded her legs around his waist, and he carried her inside.

He couldn't kiss her when he climbed the stairs without risking breaking both their necks. She could continue to torment him with her fingers, lips, teeth and tongue, though, and she did.

Hermione's room was closer to the stairs, than his own. He kicked the door open and threw her on the bed, then stood back and watched her while he pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers. She also began to undress.

"No, let me," he whispered and sank down next to her, slowly undoing one button at the time on her dress. "I believe I told you yesterday, with the rest of every thought in my head, that this particular dress is devastating for my focus."

"How? It's just a dress…" she teased.

"It's totally transparent in the sun, in the setting sun in the lovely garden you've made." He peeled away the thin fabric and ghosted his breath over her breasts. "I saw your beautiful body just as clearly as I do now."

"You seem focused enough," she purred.

"Question is, was this the focus you wanted?"

"Can't you guess?" she whispered and flipped over to straddle him. "Now, you made promises to me just a minute ago. About making me scream. Have you forgotten?"

"Not for a second, love," he chuckled, flipped her back and ended all coherent conversation.

* * *

Another scream, far from the pleasure filled moans he'd extracted from her earlier, woke him.

_Is it me or her?_

He couldn't hear the echoes of his own Dementor filled, nightly demons and drew the tense and shaking Hermione to his chest. She retorted by shoving her elbow against his nose, which immediately started to bleed and fill his mind with a metallic scent. He muttered a quick healing spell and called her name.

_Do I hold her tight or let her go? If she thinks I'm him, holding would be worse, but I can't let go of her._

"Sweetie? Hermione? Darling? Wake up. You are with me, in your bed, in our house. Remember? Sweetie?"

All her muscles seemed to relax at once, but only for about five seconds before she began to shake and sob. Sirius sighed deeply and held her.

_Everything was perfect. Why did this have to happen?_

_Everything wasn't perfect. You two might be on the right track together, but she still has her demons, and you yourself are constantly aware of you own._

He stretched out his arm to light the bedside lamp.

"No! Don't leave, don't go, please stay, please hold me."

He drew her closer in the dark.

"I will. I'll stay. I'll hold you. Do you need anything else? Water? Whiskey? A potion?"

"No," she whispered. "Just hold me. Hard. Don't fondle me, just hold still."

He did as she asked, and even though her ragged breaths evened out he felt she was still awake. When he woke up in panic after his own nightmares and didn't take his brother's potion, but decided to wait the night out, he longed for the dawn. When the sky outside the window at last went from black to grey, he usually passed out. The same happened now.

* * *

He felt her presence without opening his eyes. He lay on his side, and his hand rested on her flat stomach. The evening and night came back to him in contradictory flashes.

_From heaven to hell in sixty seconds. Where are we now?_

Her even breathing told him she was on safe distance from hell, at least.

_I fell asleep. Oh, fuck, how useless am I?_

"I can feel you are awake, Sirius."

He sighed and opened his eyes. Hermione showed no traces of the later, hellish part of the night, but her lips were swollen and she'd probably prefer a polo neck sweater for a day or two. And she smiled.

"I've figured it out, Sirius." Her eyes were beaming.

"What, love?"

"The scent I feel from love potion. The one I couldn't identify."

Confused he waited for her to continue.

"It's you. When you held me and fell asleep and I could feel you breathing down the back of my neck, it hit me. You. More than cut grass and parchment and toothpaste together. Just you."

She rose on her elbow, leaned in and buried her nose at his neck.

"Just here." She slid down and inhaled at the hollow where his collarbones met. "Or maybe here." She disappeared under the sheets. "Or maybe it's the ink in your tattoos." He felt her tongue tracing the patterns on his chest. She disappeared even further down under the beddings and he couldn't make out what she mumbled anymore. When her lips closed around his morning wood, it didn't matter; he wouldn't have been able to understand a two-word sentence. He hissed and threw his head back in the pillow, his hands lightly touching her hair.

_If I die later today, I'll be OK with that. Good lord…_

******By the way, what's the line between T and M rating? Do you think I should change the rating? **So, was I right? You liked it, right? 


	18. Family Ties

**Dear all, I've had a blissful couple of weeks with heaps of time at my own disposal, which is the reason for my frequent updates. Reality has now caught up with me, and I'm supposed to actually work. Thus, updates will be slower at times, but stayed tuned, I won't let you down. I've also upped the rating to M. Better safe than sorry, and all that... (And my characters' feelings and behavior obviously need it...)**

**Love, Kia **

"It was Tonks, actually," Sirius informed Hermione when he, eventually, was able to put words together again.

"I guessed that, when she showed up half an hour to midnight and tiptoed around the ground floor, before she found me in the kitchen. You were asleep."

Sirius didn't contradict her.

"Weren't you… Aren't you angry with her?"

Hermione snuggled closer to him, threw a leg over his hip and kissed him lazily.

"No. Not any more. I was at first, when I put two and two together yesterday morning, but I worked it off by bombarda-ing the fountain, cut back the oak and rebuilding your garden shed. I'm the winner here." She put some passion behind another lazy kiss on Sirius' neck, and he couldn't ask her to stop, even though he felt it would leave a love-bite.

"No, I am, sweetie."

"But sex didn't scare you before. It did me. When we decided to enter this marriage of convenience and Kingsley adamantly assured Molly that it wouldn't involve sex I was so relieved. I knew I thought that it would suit me perfectly. You weren't interested in me, and I wouldn't mind you having other women, as long as you left me alone, and being married would take me "off the market" and I would ever, never even have to consider having sex again. Somehow it was as important as getting away from Lestrange." Her brown eyes searched his face for understanding.

"God, you're beautiful, and I was interested. How could any man not be? But I meant it when I said I would never force you."

"I know, and you didn't."

"I was furious with Tonks, because it felt as if I had forced you."

"If anyone should be accused of coercing it's Tonks, but I won't do that."

"I'm a winner too, you know, love."

Hermione looked at him with a doubtful expression.

"Are you really, Sirius? You've given up your freedom for me. And I would mind if you had other women, I really would."

He licked a trail from her jaw, down her neck and continued to her breast. She moaned and he felt like the king of the world.

"I'll never be interested in other women again. I'm not even interested in leaving this bed. I used to want to leave the bed where I've fucked someone I brought home from the pub as soon as possible, and the mere thought of waking up with that someone was at times tiresome enough to make me consider celibacy." He sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she whimpered. Feeling the bud grow hard and sensitive he bit down tentatively and her whole body shivered and her back arched. "I want to wake up with you every morning forever. I want to wake you up every morning forever."

"Do that again," she whispered beneath him.

"Like this?" He repeated his ministrations with her other breast.

"Mmm…"

"So, are you happy?" he mumbled against her skin. He could hear her pulse racing. "With this arranged marriage?"

"Can we forget that word? Arranged? Happy? More like I can't focus on anything, just thinking about what you do to me. Do that again."

"Anything you ask."

Sirius took the offered teacup from Andromeda. The two of them sat in her living room, in front of a large, gilded frame.

"How come no one ever told me about Pollux being the white sheep in the Black family, Andromeda?"

"Well, very few knew during his lifetime. I guess he was like you when you were a young teenager. You weren't sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, but for your own safety you played it safe at home, didn't you? The consequences of renouncing all the Black ways of our family would have been too grave when you were twelve. Me and Tonks are the only ones in the family who know. And I never knew before I married Ted and got myself disinherited and declared unworthy of being part of the family tree."

"I've had you reinstated in the tapestry," Sirius said. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Why? You've never liked that tapestry."

"Because I'm the heir to the Black title. I'm bloody Lord Black. I can do whatever I want with all the Black family paraphernalia. And most of all I want to turn all of it a shade less black. Now, introduce me."

The painting showed a room similar to the Black library. A middle-aged wizard sat by his desk, writing on a piece of parchment.

"Grandfather Pollux?" Andromeda asked. The wizard in the painting flinched, but faced them with a pleasant smile.

"My dear," he said to Andromeda. His voice sounded a little bit muffled, as if the layers of paint, dust and veneer choked the sound. Sirius wondered briefly if just covering his mother's painting in varnish would silence some of her ramblings.

"Someone is here to see you, Pollux. It's your grandson Sirius."

The wizard in the painting faced the wizard in front of it. Both stood very still. To Sirius it was like looking into a mirror that showed the future. Pollux had the same grey, calm eyes as Sirius. The same short, dark moustache and chin-beard covered his lower face. Pollux' hair had a greying brown colour, and his frame was shorter and sturdier, but no one could doubt the close blood relation between the two men. The features of the oil-paint version of his grandfather expressed a mixture of relief and shame.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Andromeda said and left the room.

"Sirius," mumbled the older man. "My dear boy. At last. I'm so glad to see you. I've heard a lot about you, both good and bad, but in my book it all adds up to good."

Sirius frowned, and Pollux explained himself.

"My paintings hang in many houses. I sometimes visit places I loathe just to keep myself informed. You are not too popular at the Lestrange Castle presently. And Lucius and Narcissa stopped talking about you when you were pardoned. Before that they adored you, thinking you were a muggle murderer and a double spy for Tom Riddle. I never visit your house, though. Too many bad memories. I haven't been there since the 1960s. My daughter, your mother was not the most hospitable hostess. Quite often I doubted she was really my own flesh and blood, but seeing you today, I must admit I was wrong. My treacherous wife did not betray me. Not when became pregnant with Walburga at least."

"You weren't happy?" Sirius asked his outspoken ancestor, whose face darkened.

"No. Rarely. She was a Crabbe, our marriage was arranged, and we were very young. After we've had our three children we lived separated for the rest of our lives. We attended important, social events together, and very few knew that we were completely indifferent to each other. We lived in Shoreditch, in a house rather like your own, close to the park. I had the third floor, she lived in the two other. In a way we respected each other, or respected each other's differences. And none of us had the courage to challenge our parents' arranged deal, and apply for a divorce. It simply wasn't done in our circles. So, she was downstairs keeping the image of a happy family alive, while I hid upstairs minding my own business."

"Which was?" Sirius was metaphorically spellbound by the other man's story. A Black relative who had nothing of his mother's revolting elitism. A low-key, sensible man, who had been forced by his, their, family's beliefs into an unhappy marriage, an unhappy life, but who had, just like Sirius himself, put up with it.

"Research. Research about all the shoddy, evil, damaging secrets the Blacks and the Crabbes had collected for centuries. Curses, jinxes, potions designed to promote pure bloods, and hurt, or at least impede those who were of mixed blood. My research was the opposite. I spent most of my life analysing; almost dissecting these treasured family secrets, and finding counter-curses and antidotes. I wrote a book on how to detect and trace these curses, because I think you know as well as I, that these atrocities aren't as easy to see or understand as a Bat-Bogey Hex."

"A book on counter-spells. Was it published?"

The older man laughed bitterly.

"No, of course not. That would have been counter-productive. Every pure blood who had his fortune, career or love-life built on these magical advantages would have lynched me, declared me insane, gone after my children and burned the whole edition. And who would have had the guts to print it? A friend told me about a goblin-run printing house, but I didn't trust them. Goblins are only loyal to the highest bidder. They can always be bought. No, I hid my notes, and the books I've written at Hogwarts."

"Where at Hogwarts?"

"My friend, Robert McGonagall, who was the Flying Instructor and Quidditch Coach at the time, hid it in the Gryffindor Tower. I'm sure everything is still there."

"McGonagall? Minerva's…"

"Father, yes."

"She's working with cleansing the school of all magic that gives the pure blood advantages. She's asked me about Phineas Nigellus."

Pollux Black looked disgusted when he heard the name.

"Phineas was one of the worst. Your mother adored his ideas. I think his diaries are at Grimmauld Place."

Sirius nodded.

"They are, and I've read them to try to help Minerva, but I must say I haven't made much progress."

"Be proud of that, dear boy."

Sirius looked annoyed.

"What I mean, is that in order to really get under the surface of these matters you have to think like the creators of the curses. You need to be as bloody-minded, as malicious, as dark as they were. It almost drove me mad at times. I think the only reason I made progress in my research is that I had no other life. I ate and slept, read, thought and wrote. Sometimes I didn't speak to anyone except the house-elf, for weeks. I lived most of my life within the walls of that flat."

_ Within the borders I've chosen. Sounds like me. No, not anymore._

"Your friend, McGonagall…"

"Well, we met at the club."

"What club?"

Pollux looked at Sirius as if he'd asked what kind of place Hogwarts was.

"The Cantankerous, of course."

"The Cantankerous? Never heard of it."

Now Pollux regarded Sirius as one would a person with very limited intellectual means.

"You are probably a member. From the day you were born."

Sirius shook his head.

"Still rings no bell. Tell me."

"The Cantankerous is a club for pure blood elitism. Normal people would interpret the word as negative, an adjective for someone extremely stubborn and won't listen to reasons for change. The members of this club are proud of their old, unchanged ways, they think their stubbornness makes them better than others. I was a member, as were and are every pure blood Black, Malfoy, Crabbe, Nott, Bulstrode, Shacklebolt, Lestrange, McGonagall, you name them. The Longbottoms were excluded centuries ago, the Weasleys while I was alive. It's a club for men only, and since I had to make an appearance in society sometimes, to contradict the rumours of my death, it amused me to go there and put on an act. I always returned with new ideas and leads for my research. I usually went there with Robert McGonagall, and we pretended to be the most cantankerous pure bloods in London. I guess it's still in business. It's down at the Embankment, close to Waterloo Bridge."

Sirius was sure he'd never heard of it.

"Sounds dreadful. I'd rather die than going there."

"You're probably right. But remember it exists. I don't know how busy or important it is now, but it used to be the crème de la crème of secret societies. But now, tell me about this New Deal. Andromeda and Tonks are really worried, they don't really trust the good will of the Ministry, and I'd be the first to agree. It sounds too good to be true."

Sirius filled him in on the news about child support and day care. He also mentioned that all the impending marriages were well researched, many who were getting married now would possibly have done so anyway. The fact that none of the 200 marriages were pure blood caught his grandfather's attention.

"None?"

"No, the few pure blood children born after the war are squibs. Too in-bred."

His grandfather gave him a sharp look, but it didn't seem to be Sirius' vulgar phrasing that he reacted on.

"So," the older man said slowly, "it's about the children. The next generation."

"How? I don't understand. There will be no more pure blood families in the next generation, if this continues. Everyone will be of mixed blood. Sounds perfect, to me."

His grandfather watched him intently, opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. After a small pause he did, but he seemed follow another train of thought than what Sirius had made him want to say first.

"Sirius, now listen. You need to embrace your own damned background. I've heard you've always been a bit of a rebel, doing the opposite of everything your mother ever said, which I personally applaud, but you need to start thinking like them, in order to understand them. Their secret weapons this time are love and money, and who could resist that?"

"Love and money?"

"You don't need money, do you, but Tonks tells me you're not indifferent to love. You have a wife now, don't you? And she's not pure blood, is she?"

"No, Hermione is muggle born. She's the most brilliant witch…"

Pollux held up his hand to stop him.

"I'm sure. I've heard that these marriages are all very loving. The nativity will go through the roof."

"But if Hermione and I have children…" _I've never said that out loud before._ "…they'll be half-blood. No one will longer be able to claim pure-blood supremacy."

"I hope you are right. By Merlin, I hope it's just about the children, the nativity. But am I right when I say that the Ministry will pay young families to have as many children as possible, with this child support?"  
"Yes, I guess it sounds like that. I don't know what to think about it. I've never been poor, so I don't know what it's like."

"The Ministry has never acted completely altruistic in its 400 year long history. Be vigilant. Discuss it in the Order. Do it soon. You should take part in the running of things."

"Of what?"

"You are Lord Black. I never were, the title comes from your father's side. If I'd have the title, things might have been different, I might have chosen differently. But with your title you have an inherited seat in the Wizengamot, on the board of St. Mungo's and you are a Governor of Hogwarts. You don't have to earn these positions; they are yours by birthright. Robert McGonagall jr, my friend's grandson, could probably get you a position in the Committee on Experimental Charms, if you want a position not befouled by your ancestors. By the way, young Robert is a member of the Cantankerous, just to keep an eye on things. He goes there like his grandfather and I did, pretending to keep to the old ways, picking up snippets of information. He comes to talk to me sometimes. You ought to check out the Cantankerous, I'm sure you have a membership."

Sirius felt the walls closing in on him. His head was spinning from information overload. Was his grandfather really the sane, level-headed man he'd thought or was he as full of conspiracy theories as Luna's father? He promised the older man he'd carefully consider everything they'd talked about.

"And Pollux? Could you then consider visiting your portrait at Grimmauld Place? It's the headquarters for the Order. Having you close for advice would be appreciated."

"How many other portraits are there in the library where my portrait hangs?"

"Oh, I don't know. A dozen?"

"Of whom?"

Sirius admitted that he didn't really know that either, and Pollox sighed.

"If you take down all the other paintings, I'll think about it."

_ Conspiracy maniac? Yeah, to put it mildly._

Sirius walked the two miles home. The twittering of the blackbirds in the small parks he passed on his way back to 12 Grimmauld Place helped to settle his mind. Pollux' theories, loads of pure-blood elitism info, and plea for Sirius to take an active, official part in the magical community had stressed him.

_ I was an Auror, mostly undercover before I got locked up in Azkaban. Then I was hiding, hiding, hiding. In a freezing cave. In my even more freezing house. I don't like people. Not more than a handful. The Wizengamot? The Board of St. Mungo's? That fucking club that sounded like the epitome of hell? He can enrol that McGonagall junior in his cause; I'm not his man. This doesn't concern me. I just want to go home, to that sweet girl the Ministry has thrown my way. I should have gone to the west coast of Ireland with her. I don't want this, I just want her._

His house, still the dingiest of in the row of terraced housed came into sight. Looking both ways to make sure no one saw him walk up between no. 11 and no. 13 and simply vanish, he crossed the street and unlocked the wards.

It was later than he'd thought, and the house was silent. The library was dark, so he assumed Hermione was upstairs. Kreacher was in the kitchen, reluctantly returning Sirius' 'good night'.

_ Maybe I should ask him to move to Hogwarts again. I, or we don't really need him._

Hermione slept with the lights on and a large book draped over her chest. Carefully he took the book, placed it on the floor beside the bed, and dimmed the lights. She sighed, turned on her side and drew he knees up to he chin. The sight of her sleeping face, her soft hair spread over the pillow, and her hands clasped around her knees, tugged at his heart.

_ No, you didn't get much sleep yesterday. You look so small, curled up like that. I can't go to my room, I'll stay awake listening out for your nightmares. _

He left his clothes in a pile on the floor and crept down beside her. Half awake he cuddled next to him and muttered something he didn't catch.

"What was that, love?"

"I missed you."

**I remember posting a note early on about not bringing in new characters or settings, and now I find myself doing exactly that. I kind of like Pollux (who actually is in that family tree) and McGonagall Jr (who definitely isn't). Do you mind my fickle ways?**


	19. Play the Game

**A rather short chapter, just because they can't keep their hands off each other...**

18. Play the Game

Kingsley called an Order meeting a week later. As always it was to be held at 12 Grimmauld Place, and Hermione suggested tea in the garden before the actual meeting.

The Order was rather decimated due to many of the young members being away on short honeymoons, but Kingsley had insisted on a briefing, after Sirius had told him everything Pollux had told him.

"Those of us who are pure bloods know about that club, the Cantankerous," Arthur Weasley said, "even though I'm proud of my father for getting us excluded. Among Order members you, Kingsley and Bob, or Robert, McGonagall are the only one with memberships."

"Is Robert McGonagall in the Order?" Sirius asked surprised.

"Well, yes, but he keeps a low profile. Haven't you seen that silver grey cat Minerva brings to the meetings? That's him."

"Oh, I thought that was just Minerva being… eh, Minerva."

"No, it's her nephew. He is totally devoted to his image as a Ministry Official, the expert on Experimental Charms, and, of course his membership in that club. He goes there every Sunday afternoon, has done so in both war and peace. Alastor Moody was so proud of him. Constant vigilance, and then some. Bob thought Alastor too loud. Bob's way of constant vigilance is to blend in, to make people talk about themselves, then agreeing with them, flattering them and make them spill even more secrets. He only goes undisguised to work and to the club, everywhere else he is that cat."

"Wow," Sirius exhaled. "I had no idea, but no wonder Pollox talks so well about him. A bit of a conspiracy freak, eh?"

"It's hard to tell," Arthur said, watching the silver cat who sat on the bench by the oak. "We can't be too careful. History had showed us that, more than once."

* * *

Hermione and Molly served tea. Some Order members looked at Hermione's transformed garden with surprise, while others only nodded as if to say that they knew she could do anything she set her mind to. Sirius felt a pride he's never felt before in his house or in his garden. It was like a real life. And not just an image of it, their ten days old marriage had changed the way he felt about most things. Especially about himself. He didn't feel useless. He didn't harbour years of frustration for not being able to fight in the wars. He wasn't ashamed of the Order of Merlin Dumbledore had brought about after his presumed death. Even his twenty year old guilt concerning the Potters was held at bay in Hermione's presence.

As always, he sat by the short side of the table. Hermione and he had just performed a Levitation Charm on the kitchen furniture and placed them in the garden. Hermione sat on his left, Remus on his right.

"Such a lovely garden you made this into, Hermione," Remus complimented her, and Tonks, who sat next to him agreed. "It reminds me of James' parents' place, remember Sirius?"

"I wasn't really into horticulture back then, but if you say so, Remus."

"But I remember this garden too," his friend went on. "On the only occasion I was invited here, it must have been the summer before our sixth year, your mother had you mow the lawn and trim the roses for what seemed like every morning."

"That I do remember," Sirius sighed. "She did everything she could to humiliate me. Especially in front of my friends."

"I understood that even then. And I've always thought that is why you've never bothered fixing the garden yourself. After all those summer days of mowing grass and nettles and thistles, you'd had enough of gardening."

"No, I don't mind gardening. When allowed to use magic, it's quite rewarding," Sirius said in an easy tone and placed his hand on Hermione's thigh under the table. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione bending her head and suppressing a smile. Still in conversation with Remus and Tonks his fingers snaked under the hem of her skirt and stroked her velvet skin.

"Hermione," he turned to his slightly blushing wife, "really is amazingly creative, but no one gives me credit to the same amount." He pouted in jest to Remus and Tonks. I was the one who made Pollux spill all the secrets of his undercover research, and give us pointers to where to look. I've even had the Black Family tapestry repaired. Tonks, you got to see it. I swear Bellatrix and Narcissa's faces turned another shade of disdain when you, your mother, me and Hermione joined the branches." He let his fingers slide an inch higher on Hermione's thigh.

"It was Luna who mended the tapestry, Sirius." Hermione reminded him, he voice a little strained.

"Well, I paid her. She is my entrepreneur."

"We paid her with garden gnomes."

"Well, I paid her in gold as well." His thumb stroked her panties when he said 'gold' and Hermione had to fake a cough to cover her moan. "And I took out a subscription of The Quibbler."

Hermione reached for the teapot and leaned closer to him.

"More tea, Sirius?" she asked innocently and before he could answer she filled his cup with steaming, black tea. That was his cue to fake a sneeze. Before he could retort she had grabbed a peach from the bowl on the table and taken a large bite. Again rather close she had a question.

"Would you like a bite of my peach, Sirius?"

Her fruity breath carried her question, and he couldn't have answered even if he'd tried. Her wide eyes had a naughty glint. She could also play this game.

Tonks interrupted his train of thought.

"Why don't you and I clear away the dishes, Hermione? Sirius, you could perhaps fetch us some port, or whiskey from the cellar and we'll keep the meeting in the kitchen. It looks like rain, and we can levitate the furniture back, can't we, Remus."

"Well, of course."

Sirius looked at his cousin with a blank expression.

_ Something about the cellar? Why does she want me to run down to the cellar? Port? Oh, the wine. Port wine. I can't be around Hermione when we have company. I think I'll chain her to my bed and swallow the key._

Tonks winked at him, and he got on his feet. Hermione seemed a lot more composed than he.

_Oh, you'll pay for this,_ he mused.

* * *

When Sirius came into the library he was blinded by the contrast for a minute. Almost forgetting where he was going he crossed the library, the hall and the empty kitchen to reach the stairs to the wine cellar, which was just inside the kitchen door.

He looked wearily at the rows of bottles.

_ What am I doing here? I was to get some… what was it…?_

Hermione's tanned arms came out of nowhere and went around his waist.

"You little monster," he mumbled lovingly when he turned around.

"You started it. 'Gardening quite rewarding,' right? I had to…"

"Enough," he growled the second before he silenced her with a kiss.

They stumbled against the racks of tinkling wine bottles, and Sirius steered them towards one of the walls of cellar. Hermione's back crashed rather violently to the roughness of the wall, but she seemed oblivious to any possible pain. Her tongue invaded his mouth, and he pressed her to the vertical surface. He lifted her and held her weight on his hips, and she bit his lower lip and pulled him painfully against her centre. She'd never been so aggressive in their lovemaking, but he'd be an idiot to complain.

"Do I want a bite of your peach, eh? How can you ask me that with a straight face?" He'd finally unbuttoned her blouse and gotten rid of her bra, and closed his lips around one of her nipples, while he grabbed her other breast hard. "Oh fuck, I'll stay off all other fruit for the rest of my life if I can have a bite of your peach."

"But you can," she gasped and tugged at his hair. "Whenever. Now hurry. I'll hex your trousers into rags if you don't…"

He claimed her mouth with his, quickly unbuttoning his pants and hitching up her skirt. Pulling her panties aside he felt her soaking folds with his fingers. Hermione exhaled slowly, and he knew he had the upper hand. Her arousal made her his puppet, but a puppeteer on the verge of orgasm and literally high on her taste was in no position to make complicated performances. He circled her bud of tense nerve ends a few more times before he buried himself inside her.

He'd never made love to her standing up. Something about her sexuality suggested soft beds with fresh linen rather than a dirty cellar wall, but he'd been wrong. Or narrow-minded. He clasped his hand over her mouth, so her pleasure filled moans wouldn't be heard up to the kitchen where the furniture were being fitted in their usual places. He took her hard and fast, and whatever he did sent her a notch closer to her release.

_ By all deities I don't know, this woman will be the end of me. I'll do anything for her. Oh, quiet down, I won't take Tonks' smirks today._

Hermione's legs were around his hips, urging him on, but before long he could feel her clamping down on him, and dispose of every sane thought in his head.

* * *

Slowly regaining his wits, he let Hermione down carefully.

"I feel as if I've just done something I shouldn't," he mumbled in her hair. "As if it was wrong."

"But it felt right," she spoke hoarsely into his ear.

"Oh yes," he chuckled. "But we own this house, and still we're hiding in the cellar."

"Well, the garden was full of people."

He laughed at her frankness.

"How come you, who said yourself you wanted this marriage to get out of sex, are here with me now, in the most compromising situation. Not that I complain, not for a second."

They heard the door from the kitchen open and Tonks calling Sirius.

"Yes, just a minute, I'll be right up," he called back. "Thank Merlin, she didn't come down."

**There is an unedited part of this chapter that has to wait. That will actually stir the plot, but I just needed to publish something creative today, between marketing myself professionally, which isn't creative at all...**


	20. Kingsley's request

**Somehow I seem to have messed up Robert McGonagall's family tree. I've called him both Minerva's grandson and nephew. Sorry. From now on he's her nephew, which takes him two generations from Pollux friend with the same name, who was Minerva's father.**

Sirius placed a few bottles on the kitchen table, and poured himself a glass of the port before he took his usual seat, opposite Kingsley who sat by the other short side.

"Dear Order members," Kingsley began. "It seems we have an allied we haven't been aware of." He gave the silver cat on the worktop a sharp look. The animagus form of Bob McGonagall yawned and licked his paw. "Sirius' grandfather Pollux has supplied lots of information that can be useful. I was aware of the Cantakerous, the Shacklebolts are not excluded yet, but that's just because no one in my family has been there for decades. They know my sympathies, as they do yours, Arthur, and yours Minerva. Obviously they trust Bob here, despite his last name, but you've worked hard on that haven't you?"

The cat meowed, and Sirius's brain went back to his rendezvous in the cellar.

_ The noises she makes… _

Suddenly aware of his inability to focus, he snapped.

"For the love of… just fucking everything! Man up to this meeting, McGonagall! I won't have a conversation with a cat. I'm not a cat person, and this just feels ridiculous."

Some sighs around the table told him that no one was impressed by his temper. No one spoke though, and the cat leaped down from the worktop and out of sight. A second later a man his own age stood if front of him. He resembled his aunt a great deal, but was darker and very broad shouldered, which came as a surprise after the slender cat. He stretched out his hand to Sirius.

"Bob McGonagall. We've never met, but I saw you at the Ministry a week ago. I keep a low profile."

"To say the least. Could you please attend this meeting as yourself, as you probably know more of this hideous club than any of us?"

Bob McGonagall looked around the table, as if to evaluate every member's trustworthiness.

"All right." He sat down next to Neville Longbottom.

"Among the things Pollux told Sirius I'd like to focus on two things. The first issue is of course the Cantankerous. Sirius, you are the only one, except Bob, who has a membership. I'd like you to use it."

Sirius heart sank. Kingsley couldn't be serious.

"Everyone knows my sympathies too, Kingsley. I wouldn't make it past the door-keepers." He realized suddenly that many pairs of eyes looked at him with an unfamiliar interest.

"I don't think that," Minerva McGonagall said at last. "I think you could be very convincing."

"Convincing what, Minerva?" Sirius asked with a feeling he already knew the answer.

"A convincing Lord Black."

"I am Lord Black."

"You know what I mean. A convincing Lord Black as Lord Black has been since the 16th century. A superior, haughty aristocrat with hereditary pure-blood supremacy."

"They all know my part when Voldemort was after the prophecy. I fought Lucius and McNair, and Bellatrix hexed me into the Veil. They know I've been pardoned for the killing of all those muggles and that it was Peter who was their real allied."

"Peter is dead, Sirius," said Kingsley. "And, not to diminish your role in any way, but you were undercover here before the Veil, and after you returned… Well, we all know you, but you haven't really made an effort to be a public spokesperson for what you believe in, and how happy you are for Voldemort's demise."

Sirius glared at his friend. Was Kingsley accusing him of not celebrating enough with the winning side after the war? As if he secretly still allied with his family?

"I see where your mind is going, Sirius," Kingsley quickly continued, "but this is a good thing. We can use that. You can join that club, rekindle old relations within the aristocracy and pull off your return from the Veil as something of a revelation, which has left you with your family's old values. Hinting that you were misled before. Young and rebellious, while you now have become conservative and old-fashioned. Before is more than twenty years ago, you haven't been a public person other than a mad escapee from Azkaban, and then an unexplained returner from the Veil. And you returned the same day Harry defeated Voldemort, and that stole all your thunder in the press."

Sirius could see his point. But he didn't like it. He searched Hermione's eyes among the Order members.

_ What do you want me to do? Please, give me an excuse to get out of this._

Her brown, but expressionless eyes gave him no excuses. Her beauty and what he felt about her did though.

"I've just married a muggle-born. That won't make me the most popular among the pure-blood fanatics."

"Sirius," Minerva said, rather sharply. "Could you please see a somewhat larger picture than yourself here? The pure-bloods who aren't already married are also marrying muggle-born witches and wizards. They have to. They might even have conjured that idea themselves, but to what purpose we don't know yet."

"The children," Luna ventured.

"Well, yes, of course," Minerva agreed, "but the belief in pure-blood supremacy wasn't conquered with Voldemort, and it amazes me that there hasn't been louder outcries from some of the old families at the thought of their sons and daughters marrying people they earlier would regard as unworthy. Draco Malfoy is getting married next week. To half-blood Cho Chang who is very pregnant with his baby. And Narcissa Malfoy just smiles and acts delighted. There is something not right about that. That woman has never been delighted about anything in her whole life."

Sirius chuckled at her words, but quieted down when Minerva looked intently at him.

"So, Sirius, we need pure-blood Black to find out what the others are up to. I think you'll gain their trust faster than Bob has, you just need to play the part."

Sirius knew what part she meant. The Lord Black of his father's. The standoffish, haughty, cruel aristocrat who spoke his hideous, pure-blood opinions without dressing it down, and never apologized. He knew that Lord Black well enough. That Lord Black had shadowed his life up until he was sixteen. That Lord Black had perfected his son's _crucio_ curse, with a hands-on, learning-by-doing technique.

_ Yes, Sirius, the goblin seems to be in great distress, even pain. Would you say he is in as much pain as this? Crucio!_

The memory of the pain made him feel sick.

"And about Mrs Black," Bob interjected, "I think you should stick to how your father would have regarded a muggle-born wife, or even mistress. It's politically incorrect at the Ministry, and not much is said at the Cantankerous either, nowadays, but if you are to make amends with these people and be believed when you talk about the old ways and your family's values, you should have a plan for that too."

Sirius felt even sicker and pushed away his glass of port. How his father would have regarded a muggle-born mistress? He knew well enough.

"You mean like a…" he couldn't really finish the sentence.

"…like a whore, yes." Bob's blue eyes were hard. "Preferably with the only function to give you children. I know these people. The more old-school you are, the better they'll like you."

"Excuse me, I need some air." Sirius overturned the chair in his hurry to get away from the meeting.

The garden was beautiful even in the light drizzle. He took a few deep gulps of air and tried to think of something else than throwing up.

_ This is fucking unfair! I don't want to do this! The only decision I've ever been truly proud of, and that was mine alone, was to renounce these sickening ideas when I was young. And now they want me to go back, to be what my parents wanted me to be._

Someone was coming. He swallowed his nausea and turned around. Tonks stood quietly in the door.

"Did you know?" he asked her.

"No, not about the club. But I heard discussions about using you as a kind of decoy, so I wasn't surprised."

"I don't want to."

"Of course not."

She came up and stood next to him.

"Do you think Harry wanted to go on a Horcrux hunt at the age of seventeen? Or that Hermione didn't know the risks of going with him? Or that Snape wanted to kill Dumbledore in a room full of witnesses? And Lily and James knew the risks of going into hiding, whoever the Secret Keeper was."

He looked at her in amazement. She didn't even have to ask him straight out. She continued.

"You are the only option we have as someone who can earn their trust in that context. You resemblance with your father is uncanny. If you tilt your head back and look down your nose at everyone, the members of the Cantankerous will think he's come back from the dead. And you have all the research material you can dream of. Diaries, letters, books. You can do this, Sirius, and you are the only one who can do it."

_ See a somewhat larger picture than yourself? Am I selfish for just wanting a normal life, after a few days of having that._

_ You said you wanted to fight._

_ Not like this. Not alone._

_ Sorry mate, wars are different. The Order doesn't even know where the enemies are. You need to find out. Alone. Or did you think of bringing Hermione?_

_ God, no!_

_ Well then?_

"OK," he muttered.

"Of course," his cousin said.

"What?"

"Of course. That is how you will never truly be like the rest of our family. None of them would do something they wouldn't want to do, for someone else."

"Where is Hermione?"

"She left the meeting as well." Tonks smirked knowingly at her cousin. "Sirius, she has cobweb in her hair. And her blouse is ripped at the shoulder."

"Oh, shut up. Let's go in."

When they were halfway through the library, Sirius' mind played back a few of Kingsley's words.

_ The first issue is of course the Cantankerous. The first issue is of course the Cantankerous. The first?_

"Tonks, stop."

He turned her towards him, and to the light from the garden. She wouldn't get away with any half-truths this time. She didn't look pleased exactly.

"Do you know what Kingsley's second issue is? The first was the club. What is the other? Come on, I know Remus doesn't hide these things from you."

Tonks looked troubled. She reminded Sirius about when he, at the age of nine, had contracted Dragon pox, and the emphatic Healer at St Mungo's had told him that he had to stay in bed for a month. Her face had the same expression. Pity and sympathy. He felt a lot worse than when he had Dragon pox.

"Well…?"

Tonks sighed but didn't break eye-contact with him.

"It's about your seat in the Wizengamot. Kingsley thinks you should claim it, to keep an eye on new legislative proposals."

"No. No. No. Absolutely not." He reached the kitchen in a few strides. "Kingsley, with all due respect, but as host of this meeting, I declare it over, right now. The Cantankerous yes, all right, I'll give it a try, but that is enough. There is no way in hell you're placing me in the bloody Parliament. Why not just _Avada_ me here and now and get it over with?

**So, will Sirius' swearing and refusal get him out of what he's asked to do?**


	21. Pondering

**Sorry, for the slower than usual update. Some people want me to work. Gaaahh... I want to continue writing this story.**

**Love, Kia**

When the candles on the coffee table in front of him flickered alight, Sirius realized it was dark around him. Hermione came up behind his armchair, put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed. It hurt like hell, just like his back and head. He had noticed the increasing headache as the level in the bottle in front of him sank, but the pain from his almost cramping muscles hit him like a vicious Bludger. And still he craved her touch.

Hermione muttered a spell, and the pain subsided. She rounded the armchair and stood in front of him. He reached for her hand and pulled her into his lap. She curled up with her head on his shoulder and her arms around him.

_ Is there a spell to stop time? I'd take my chances with an Unforgivable Curse, if I can just stay like this._

"Just us here?" he asked.

"Yes, I sent Kreacher to Hogwarts, like you asked, and the others left hours ago. Have you had enough time to brood, or do you want me to leave you alone?"

"I never want you to leave me alone. I was just the worst company imaginable. You didn't need to see me like that."

"I want to be with you, no matter what your mood is."

Sirius drew her close and revelled in her softness and scent. He held her hard and suddenly realized he was on the brink of tears. She noticed and drew her fingers through his hair. Things felt a degree less hellish by her touch.

"Shh, I know. I know. You don't want to. Neither do I. But we will do it anyway, won't we?"

He almost snapped at her that it was he, not they, that was asked these ludicrous things for the greater good, but then a revelation hit him.

_ I can only do this with her support. I'll go to that hellhole on the Embankment with Bob, but she'll be here when I get home, and it is to keep it that way, to keep her and the rest of us safe that I do it at all._

"I don't want to talk about it. I want to talk about you."

"Oh?"

"Yes." His hands slid under her shirt and up her back. She leaned back into his caress, and he almost forgot what he wanted to ask her. Reluctantly he pulled back his hands. He was a little at loss on where to touch her without losing focus. He let his hands rest loosely against her hips.

"A couple of days ago, you said, in my bed, that sex scared you before. Before…? Me? The love potion? Your own fatal truth potion? What did you mean?"

Hermione straightened up and met his gaze. He resisted to let his eyes stray to her lips, knowing he'd be truly lost if she bit her lower lip. She hesitated.

"I… Well, I guess…" She sighed and drew her hands through her hair. He tried not to inhale.

_ Is she doing that knowingly, to get out of this?_

She cleared her throat and looked at him with a determination he rarely saw but recognised from his older, mental pictures of her younger self.

"When you knew me before, I mean before you fell into the Veil, when Harry, Ron and I were fifteen, I was rather sure of myself, do you remember?"

Sirius chuckled.

"You bossed them around more efficiently than Molly."

She smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, was I that bad?"

"I didn't say it was bad, but you were very determined."

"Well, I was right most of the times, wasn't I?"

"If you say so. But, yes I know I thought I was glad Harry had you during that year. Voldemort was in his mind, and I don't think he would have been able to do anything constructive if you hadn't forced him to form that Dumbledore's Army."

She looked at him thoughtfully, and nodded.

"Anyway. When you were… gone, a year after you…"

"Died," he supplied, and felt her shudder.

"When we went on that bloody search for Horcruxes, I was still like that. Bossy, calculating, clever. I don't think I would have liked myself if I met that me today. But after… Malfoy Manor…"

Her voice became strained and he felt bad for asking her, bringing it back. He cupped her cheeks with both his hands.

"You don't have to. Let's leave it."

"No. No, I want you to know, I want you to understand." She took his hands in hers and rested their intertwined fingers between them. "I'd never been hurt before Malfoy Manor. We three had done dangerous things during all our six years at Hogwarts, but I'd never been hurt, never got caught, never suffered detention under Umbridge, never broken any bones in Quidditch matches or," she smiled briefly, "by mad Azkaban escapees. Harry and Ron had, and I think I thought myself on another level than them. Not better, just… smoother, cleverer. I pushed us to do some really mad things. We went into the Ministry on Polyjuice Potion, I went into Gringott's as Bellatrix on Polyjuice, and I got away with it. Harry and I went to Godric's Hollow, on my suggestion, and were almost killed by Nagini, or some other hideous snake. But we made it unscathed. Well, Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix and… her husband gave me another perspective. I hadn't known I was that vulnerable. And I couldn't accept it. Not at first. Ron and I got together during the Battle of Hogwarts, down in the Chamber of Secrets, and I was determined it would work. I had been in love with Ron for I don't know how long. It didn't work, of course. Well, for while it did, as long as our relationship was rather innocent, but I had these nightmares. I cringed when he touched me. I almost threw up when he kissed me. It wasn't his fault, but I couldn't tell him. I didn't want him like I had before, in school, but I didn't want to loose him either. He broke off with me eventually, and the guilt I felt for stealing all those years of his life was dreadful."

"But you didn't. You didn't steal time from him. He wanted to be with you."

"Yes, perhaps, but I couldn't. I mean, we had a sex life, or, at least, we had sex occasionally, and I felt raped every time. And he's not a bad man, or a poor lover, he just… Well, I couldn't, I didn't enjoy it ever. And then he started seeing Lavender."

"While he was with you?"

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

"And I so wanted to be with him, wanted to want to be with him. Lavender was everything I wanted to be for him, but couldn't. I wanted to be her."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm glad you're not. And I'm sorry, I didn't know Ron cheated on you."

"Did he? Didn't I cheat on him? Ever never letting him feel that I loved him, that I wasn't repulsed by his touch? It wasn't his touch that made my mind go blank, it was just intimacy of any kind. Poor Ron."

_ Poor Ron? He fucked another girl while you were struggling with a rape you didn't tell anyone. Why poor Ron? Oh, I'd like to make him poor Ron._

"Poor Hermione." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She didn't flinch, and when he withdrew her eyes was closed for a second.

"And I set my mind to becoming normal. And get Ron back. And Oliver was interested, and I used him. And it didn't work. With Victor I was certain I would get a raise out of Ron, but quite soon I realized that I couldn't, shouldn't try to get Ron back, because I could never be his lover, anyone's lover. As I told you before, the memory of Lestrange has tainted so much. As soon as it came to intimacy at all, with anyone, I just wanted to run. I could get a panic attack just by hugging a friend, even a girlfriend."

She shifted in his lap, and so did the direction of her story.

"I decided to avoid all situations with possible closeness. Not really a conscious decision, it was more like I couldn't, I didn't dare to try any more. So, from being what Snape once called a know-it-all, I became a know-nothing-at-all when it came to relationships of any kind. Professionally I'm no different than I was ten years ago. Hard work will get me where I want. With friends I'm the same, as long as no one tries to flirt with me, and no one does any more. When Minister Bendel's New Deal came up, I first thought I wouldn't be able to hide my aversions towards closeness. Earlier no one noticed. And then you came along, as a political or strategic alternative, rather than a lover, and I thought I could carry on with my ice-queen manners. No one would know, and you wouldn't care."

_ Wouldn't I? I hope I wouldn't have pushed you, but I would have cared._

"And then there was the love potion, and academically I feel foolish for ever thinking it wouldn't work on me. I was so embarrassed when I fled to Hogwarts, but thrilled too. I realized what I had missed, and what I might have continued to go without, if Tonks hadn't interfered. Well, I didn't know it was Tonks at the time… But I didn't know how you felt, and… well, sorry about the truth potion Sirius, I guess I went into research mode and wanted proof, rather than evasions."

"I think I would have told you anyway."

"I think so too now."

_ I have to risk it. I have to know._

He pulled her to his chest, not prepared to read answers he couldn't handle in her eyes.

"I wonder one thing, love."

"Mmm." Her breath tickled his neck and slid under his shirt. Her hand stroked his arm, his shoulder, and her fingers played with his hair.

_Will I ever be able to hold a conversation with this woman, without wanting to rip her clothes off? Focus!_

"Obviously the love potion is potent, but now, is it the memory of that potion or is it me that makes you the most irresistible woman in England, to me? If Ron had potioned you, would you be in his arms now?"

Again she straightened up, and the look she gave him physically hurt.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I shouldn't have asked. It's just that you make me the happiest I've ever been. I'm constantly distracted by you, and I'm afraid to loose you."

Her voice was soft and sad when she spoke.

"When someone goes through a… trauma… No, when you lost your closest friends, were wrongly prisoned, then hunted and finally hexed into the Veil, and I was forced to grow up at the age of thirteen, decided to obliviate my parents at sixteen and was abused at seventeen, we changed. If everything in life had gone our way, success and friends and love and family, we wouldn't be the people we are now. I know I'm more humble, more un-presuming. I'm more sensitive and responsive to other people, knowing that they might have gone through as much hell as I have. You are the same. When Remus sent you to 'propose' to me in this strategic plan, I caught a sight of your consideration. You're not exactly known to be considerate. In the past, it been easier to think that your experiences have made you into an indifferent and cold person, but I sensed you were not so unlike myself. You asked me what I wanted; you gave assurances you thought I needed. You touched me, but I didn't feel threatened. You kissed me on my cheek, and I felt a flicker of… something. Of course it's you Sirius, not the love potion. You care about me, not about filling the vacant spot as your partner. You asked me to trust you, over and over, and I do. And no one else. A man in the park tried to look up my skirt when I sat there reading the other day, and just his look made me feel sick. The thought of Ron, or when Oliver and I…"

"I don't want to know," he growled. "Please don't put images in my mind."

"Sorry. But it is you, and only you."

"If you'd said anything else I think my heart would have stopped. Oh, you lovely, beautiful girl, no wife of mine, you are just amazing and I can't believe how lucky I am to have you."

He cupped her face and kissed her softly. She trembled, put her hands on his shoulders and parted her lips.

_She is mine, and only mine. She's not just an unhoped-for, lucky interlude who will break my heart. I'm married to her._

Suddenly the magnitude of their commitment hit him and he roughly pulled her body flush with is own and drank her like a man denied water for a week. When his lips wandered down her neck, he saw the cobwebs Tonks had smirked about earlier. He felt the shoulder seam of her blouse ripped and the memory of their love making in the cellar emptied his mind of everything but his need for her. Between kisses and bites he told her about the traces from the cellar, and it seemed to have the same effect on her.

"If it's already ripped," he panted in his ear, "there is nothing to do," she licked his neck, "but to rip it some more."

She sat up, her breasts straining the buttons of the shirt. Without thinking he pushed his fingers between the buttons and tore. Her bra came off so fast the buttons still tinkled on the floor. She shivered and writhed in his grip, sobbed when he sucked her nipple and pinched the other hard.

"I can't think when you do that," she whispered hoarsely and dug her fingernails into the skin of his shoulders.

"You're not supposed to," he muttered. "Just," he swirled the bud with his tongue, "trust," sucked hard, "me," and bit down.

The couch was in the other end of the library, but they didn't make it that far. The old, dirty, rough surface of the Persian rug left burn marks on their skin.

**I actually do have an outline to get Sirius out of the house and start DOING something. The problem is that Hermione keeps distracting him. But soon, any year now, they'll focus on the fight between the Dark and the Light side...**


	22. Feeling Lucky

**The ultimate double-play chapter. A part of me feels as sick as Sirius.**

Sirius stood in the light drizzle in the thin summer dusk. The mottled surface of the Rives Thames swallowed all light. He looked left towards the Temple underground station, and then right towards Waterloo Bridge. No one in sight. He could hear the subdued sound of music, traffic and people along the Strand a few blocks away.

_ Real people, with real lives. Just going out for a meal or a pint with friends and loved ones. What am I doing here?_

He craned his neck. The worn, thin leather of his coat itched. He had no idea what kind of leather it was. It couldn't be snake, the parts were too large. Possibly some kind of extinct smaller breed of dragon. Hagrid would have known. He'd found the coat in the attic, and remembered his father wearing it. The collar was large and upright, rather than folded on his shoulders. He'd remembered his father looking even more intimidating than usual wearing it, and he wanted the same effect. Hermione had given him a probing look when he'd come down the stairs in it, as if she had searched for him in the character he had spent the day creating. And here he was, every bit the apparition of Lord Black, in leather, exquisite robes with intricate silver patterns, damned uncomfortable boots and more jewellery than he ever wore. Normally, he sometimes wore a watch chain to the pocket watch that had belonged to his brother. Today he'd searched and found the signet ring his father had worn, and placed it accordingly on his left little finger. Other ornate rings with dark stones or patterns grazed his knuckles on his right hand. The watch he had in his vest pocket today had belonged to Arcturus Black, his paternal grandfather. It was ridiculously ornamented and the chain to it was embellished with various stones and trinkets. They weighed him down like a millstone around his neck.

_ As if my personality isn't split and confused as it is, without Lord fucking Black adding to the crowd._

They had decided that he'd go to the Cantankerous alone. Bob McGonagall would be there, but the two of them would not acknowledge each other. Sirius coming alone would also be a test of whether there was any trust left in the once daunting name of Black. Could his name, which he'd never liked, open doors he didn't want to pass through? Give him respect from people he loathed? Let him in on secrets he didn't want to unfold?

Sirius shuddered. Why not just add to the darkness of the river with even more blackness? The heavy coat would make the process quick, and the pieces of jewellery would keep him at the muddy bottom of the Thames.

_No. Pull yourself together. You can do this._

Sirius patted his pockets to check the selection of Black paraphernalia Bob had advised him to bring. If he were mugged tonight the robber would think he'd made his fortune. If the gold and gemstones didn't burn, strangle or killed him in any other way.

His left hand had been clenched in a fist since Hermione had pressed a small vial in it an hour earlier. Now he opened his hand and watched the golden liquid shimmer slightly.

_ How can this actually help? A sip of… whatever._

_ You should know the power of potions by now. Love potion, for instance._

_ Yes, but love potion controls the person swallowing it. How can me swallowing a potion bend other people after my will? It's not an Imperio curse._

_ Don't you trust your lovely potions professor?_

He uncorked the vial, swallowed the Felix Felicis and noticed the rain stop. Suddenly the slightly back-leaning posture of his father's portrait was second nature to him. He pulled back his shoulders and the coat fit him perfectly. He strode to the inconspicuous entrance of the worn-down office building and pushed the door open. A narrow corridor led to a dimly lit desk where an older wizard watched him with a polite smile.

_ OK, so just finding the right door was the first obstacle._

"Welcome, sir. Are you a member?"

"Yes, I'…"

"Shh," the old wizard hushed. "I don't need to know, just hold out your left hand, please. Palm up."

_ Is he going to read my fortune? These idiots really…_

A quick glimmer of a blade left Sirius with a sharp pain in his thumb. A second later the man on the other side of the desk took hold of Sirius' wrist and watched as a drop of blood dripped into a silver goblet of dark fluid. Black smoke rose from the cup, and Sirius was released.

_ So, that is my membership. My blood. My dirty, vile, aristocratic blood. _

"Just a minute, sir." The old man pointed his wand at Sirius' thumb and the wound closed itself. "Welcome to the Cantankerous, sir. I haven't seen you before."

"No, I've been living elsewhere for many years, but my father spoke very highly of you."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that, sir. We try to be a home away from home, and we are very happy to have you as our guest. First door at you left, sir. If you need transportation home at the end of the evening, we have thestrals on the roof."

The rooms inside the heavy oak door were vast. Sirius took a minute by the door to take it all in. It was not unlike the common rooms at Hogwarts. High ceilings, dark wooden panels and silk brocade on the walls, soft carpets. The furniture was more elegant than in the student common rooms, of course, and there weren't any forgotten books, essays or Quidditch equipment in heaps on the tables. Several fireplaces, with low armchairs in front of them, cast a flickering light from the walls. Groups of wizards sat or stood around in groups. The atmosphere was calm and relaxed. No loud discussions about blood purity. No inebriated wizards roaring the, no doubt politically incorrect, contents of their hearts. It looked very much like what the Cantankerous claimed to be: a club for men only, a home away from home.

A few wizards turned to the door when Sirius closed it behind him. He met their gaze with tight-lipped smile of belonging, and got the same in return.

_ No, you wouldn't dream of admitting you don't know me. You know I belong because I passed the blood test. Any of my father's old friends around?_

The bar was at the other end of the room. He made his way through the room, nodding to slightly familiar people, and smiling to those who looked at him with badly contained, but genuine curiosity.

"Fire whiskey, please," he ordered from the young man behind the bar.

With a glass in his hand he turned around and watched the room. Bob sat by one of the fireplaces, but had made no sign that he even noticed Sirius' arrival.

A group of men sat around a card-table, and the back of a platinum blond head told him Lucius Malfoy was here. Igor Karkaroff and Crabbe Senior sat by the same table, along with a few other men Sirius didn't recognize. Rudolphus Lestrange was not one of them, of that he was certain.

A man his own age leaned over the counter and ordered a Fishy Green Ale. He gave Sirius a side-glance and hesitated.

"Like school," Sirius said loud enough for the other man to hear.

"Excuse me?"

"This place reminds me of school, of Hogwarts, the common rooms. Easy to feel at home."

"I never liked school. And I detest Hogwarts."

Sirius turned to the other man. He had dark, short hair, thick brows and heavy eyelids.

"Really? How come?" Sirius asked in a mocking tone, as if he might secretly share the other man's view.

"I taught there for a year. Just before the Battle. It was nothing like the Hogwarts I attended thirty years ago. No respect. No compliance. No order."

Sirius knew who the other man was now. He held out his hand.

"I'm Sirius Black. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet someone who hold established, sound beliefs in such high regard." He cringed inwardly at his own words.

"I'm Amycus Carrow. Nice to meet you. Lord Black, is it?"

"Not among friends. No need to stand at attention around here, Carrow. In the world outside these walls, it's another matter. What you said about no respect, no compliance is true. Sometimes people seem to forget who they are talking to."

"Don't I know it. A pleasure talking to you, Black. Now excuse me, I have to return to the game." He gestured to the poker game.

Sirius stayed by the bar. In side-glances he saw Carrow telling the other men around the table about him. Two of them turned to glare at him, and Sirius could identify Rabastan Lestrange, Rudolphus brother as the man sitting next to Lucius Malfoy.

_ I thought you were dead, Rabastan. What unfortunate wizard or muggle is buried in your grave? With the eternal shame of your name forced upon them? And where is your brother?_

Sirius turned and smiled in recognition to Rabastan Lestrange. After a second's hesitation the Death Eater smiled back, before he returned his attention to the game. A large pile of gold lay in the middle of the table.

_ High stakes, Lucius? Not as high as mine._

After ordering a new drink, Sirius made his way to a group of empty armchairs in front of a fire. Bob McGonagall sat rather close, in conversation with two other members.

He sat down, stretched his legs and leaned his boots against the low railing around the hearth.

No more than two minutes had passed when someone spoke to him.

"Is this chair free?"

"Of course, be my guest. I'm Sirius Black, by the way."

Sirius could almost se the cogs moving in the other man's mind. The unknown man definitely recognized the name Black.

_ Suspicion? No, genuine interest. Perhaps a bit non-committal, but I can't expect them all to be stupid._

"Albert Runcorn," said the man and sat down. He had a heavy face, and an expression of constant disdain. Sirius knew about him. He was the Ministry official Harry had impersonated during his Horcrux hunt. Runcorn's speciality and long suit had been blood purity. He'd made genealogical research into ancestry of families the late administration had found suspicious. Sure he knew the Black name. Sirius doubted Runcorn had investigated the Black family tree. The former administration would not have seen the need.

"I knew your brother, Regulus. We used to play chess here. Is he…?"

Sirius frowned. In Regulus lifetime he had convinced Sirius and everyone else that he's allied with the Death Eaters. Harry had found evidence that Regulus had instead gone on a mad witch hunt, or rather wizard hunt, to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes that would have enabled the dark wizard to come back by means of parts of the young Tom Riddle's soul.

"No, no, he is dead. Casualty of the war."

The potion in his veins pushed him further. He had no idea where it would lead, and just followed his instinct.

"He got confused. Misled. Someone whispered things that made him loose his way."

"But I thought he was your father's pride. I remember your father bringing him here. He didn't bring you, though."

Sirius smiled an apologetic smile.

"Well, back then I was also misled. You know, I was sorted into Gryffindor at Hogwarts. You can imagine what that does to a boy from our background."

_ I haven't got a clue about your background, Runcorn, and I don't give a shit, but I need you to be "we" with me now._

Runcorn chuckled.

"Yes, I seem to remember that too now. You became something of a lost cause in… some circles."

"Who isn't lost after the last war?" Sirius asked rhetorically. "But I've come to my senses, but as for my brother, he didn't and it cost him his life. He went against forces no sane man would try to fight. Not that he would have been able to do much harm, but the fact that he tried weighs heavily on the once proud name of Black."

_ Oh, I'm as ambiguous as I possibly can. Just swallow the bait so we can get on._

Runcorn swallowed the remains of his drink and made a sign to a waiter.

"Bring us a bottle of Blishen's 20-year-old. What's your name, by the way?"

"Paul Umbridge, sir."

"Related to Dolores, no doubt?"

"Yes, sir. She is my mother's cousin."

"Good. Send her my regards. Now, the whiskey."

_A workaholic. Interesting._

Runcorn turned to Sirius, and Sirius could see that the other man had indeed swallowed more than the alcohol.

"So, how did your brother get lost? What did he do?"

Sirius tried to look ashamed of the brother he'd never known, but whose secret double play made Sirius admire him the more.

"He allied with… you know, Dumbledore. He went on a search for… certain artefacts that would have made our side win the war. That would have prevented our side succumb to a seventeen-year-old boy."

_ Am I really saying this? Our side, meaning Voldemort's? Or is it the Felix potion talking? Lord, it's crowded among my personas._

Runcorn smiled a sly smile before he spoke.

"I heard you allied with Dumbledore, once upon a time."

"As I said, I was young and affectable. Found no real support among my fellow Gryffindors. My fellow Gryffindors who are all dead now, as far as I know." He heard himself laugh cruelly. "My own cousin hexed me into the Veil, and when I returned, with that as my last memory, I found my way again. The way of my family, the way of the Blacks. When someone I love so dearly as I did Bellatrix could wish me dead… It was… well, eye-opening. Oh, Merlin, I miss her so much."

_ I'm going to puke all over you if you don't interrupt me soon._

"She was indeed extraordinary. She died during the Battle of Hogwarts, right?" Runcorn asked.

"Yes, so I've heard."

"Do you know who killed her?"

_ How to answer this? How revengeful is this Lord Black? But I can't put Hermione in more danger._

He shook his head slowly.

"No, it could have been any of them. Even Severus. Did you know he was a double?"

"What!? Severus Snape? But I saw him at the most secretive meetings with…" Runcorn lowered his voice. "the Dark Lord."

_ Got you now. No normal wizard utters that name that reverently._

"Apparently he had a childhood crush on a muggle girl who died in the first war. That messed with his mind and turned him away."

Albert Runcorn stared into the flames. Sirius could see how he tried to get his mind around all the new information.

"A re-fill, Runcorn?" He topped up the other man's glass, leaned back in his chair and looked around the room with a content smile on his lips. "This place is really something. Have you been coming here for a long time? Oh, right, you told me you met my brother here. Must have been twenty-five years ago." He chatted away to soothe Runcorn.

"Yes, I come here often. But I haven't seen you here before. At all. Why now, Black? You've been back since the end of the war. You should have found your way here when you found you way in general."

Sirius leaned towards Runcorn and spoke low and confidentially.

"To tell you the truth, Runcorn, I didn't know about this club until recently. I was a spoiled brat when I was young, and I truly respect my father for no taking me here then. I've been minding my own way since the war, and been rather content with that. But now with this Marriage Law forcing me to interact with… filth," he spat out the word in a perfect imitation of his mother, "I truly need something to balance my life. When I cleared my father's desk, to keep Black secrets safe from probing eyes, I found the parchment concerning this club."

"Been affected by the new law, have you? Well, I can imagine the current administration would do that with a family tree such as yours. Who did they force upon you?"

Sirius waved his hand dismissively.

"Just some slip of a girl. Well, not girl, she teaches at Hogwarts. Point is, as my wife she stays in my house when not at Hogwarts. And I don't want anyone I don't trust there."

"I thought the suggested marriages were supposed to be based on real relationships."

"Not all, my friend, not all. There are other, unexplained pairings as well," Sirius lied. "I used to know this girl ten years ago, perhaps they paired her up with me because they didn't know what to do with her. She's rather tiresome."

"No fun at all?" Runcorn smirked with a wink that made Sirius want to punch him in the face. No, use the poker next to the hearth on his face.

"You mean…?"

"Between the sheets?"

"Well, I suppose, but that's beside the point. I've never been celibate, but I've never had to marry before. I guess it's the only up-side of having her around."

"It's been nice talking to you, Black, but I need to leave now. I hope I'll see you here another evening."

"That is a promise," Sirius smiled back and shook the other man's hand.

When Runcorn left, Sirius realized the room was more sparsely populated than before. The poker game was still on, but the chair where McGonagall had sat was empty. He started to make his way to the door. When he passed the poker table, Lucius Malfoy turned around.

"Black? What the hell are you doing here?"

**So, drop me a line about these new turns and twists. Love, Kia.**


	23. Need

**Yes, another chapter today. Perhaps to soothe things. Be an angel and give me a review or just some love in general. **

**Love, Kia**

"I haven't seen you in ages," Lucius continued coldly and Sirius knew exactly when they'd last seen each other. In front of the Veil. Sirius had cursed Lucius away from Harry, let his focus slip for a second and missed Bellatrix' arrival.

"Good things come to those who wait," Sirius muttered.

"My friend Rabastan has just left. Care to take his place?"

"Not tonight, Lucius."

"Not very friendly, Black. Coming here for the first time, one could expect some of the Black charm, right?" Lucius pressed on, his pale eyes impossible to read.

Sirius decided to blow off some steam.

"I've been back for four years, Lucius. You know where I've been, you know the address. So does Narcissa. And not once have I heard from you. Not once did any of you come to talk to me about Bellatrix' death. Can you imagine the guilt I've been feeling for being alive again, due to her death?"

Malfoy's pale face was the colour of parchment, and a flicker of emotions clouded his eyes for a second.

"I've, we've… I didn't know…?"

"Didn't know what, Lucius? The values of our family? How we stick together, Toujours Pur? What it was like to come back, knowing Bellatrix hated me enough to kill me, searching for her to make amends and realizing I was alive again, but she was dead?" Sirius eyes glazed over in fake tears. "Have you got any idea how lonely I've been in my mother's house? The only one in the family who has been to visit is Andromeda and that half-blood daughter of hers." He allowed himself a shudder, which wasn't difficult in the present company, and that he hoped would be misinterpreted the right way. "There is only so much you can talk about with the portraits of old Blacks. I came here today, because the fucking Ministry has forced me to share my house with a muggle born witch,"

_Shit, I should have said mudblood._

"and there is only so much of that I can take. And you didn't exactly jump up to greet me." Sirius reached for a small jewellery box in his pocket and threw it in front of Lucius. "This is something for Narcissa. I can't risk the little wife setting her eyes on it. On the other hand, it might not agree with her blood status and kill her, but then the Ministry would be on my heels again, and I've had enough of that. Give Cissy my love, will you?"

Sirius left the table and didn't look back. He could imagine Lucius looking like a fish out of water, and his friends being embarrassed on his behalf, but he was pleased with himself. Carrow, Runcorn, Malfoy. All of them would think about Sirius Black's unexpected arrival at the Cantankerous tonight. But right now his anxiety level and nausea were more pressing matters.

_I need to get home. Now._

He looked left and right, but the street was as deserted as before. With a soft pop he was gone and inside the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione sat by the kitchen table, flinching when he materialized in front of the stove. A few books and a teapot were on the table, and the candles were lit.

"Sirius, at last. It's so late. How did it go?"

Sirius couldn't speak, he just watched her. Her slightly worried expression, her hair loose around her face, her bare, tanned arms and shoulders. Feeling the malice he'd been around all evening, and which he himself had added to in his role as Lord Black, catching up on him, he left the kitchen and ran to the downstairs bathroom.

Retching over the basin he promised himself he would never do this again.

_Fuck, what have I said? Who have I been? No more, I'll just leave now. Exit Black. I don't care. We'll never get rid of them, not all of them. They'll still have their little holes to hide in. What other places are there, other than that club? There could be other, in other cities, other countries. And I'll never drink that piss Blishen's fire whiskey again._

He turned on the water and took a sip. The tiled bathroom seemed to shrink around him, and his knees gave out. Leaning against the wall, he couldn't decide if his need to throw up or to cry was most imminent. The bathroom door opened and he couldn't sum up enough energy to ask her to leave him alone.

Hermione crouched beside him, searching his face with genuine worry. Her hands caressed his neck and she leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. He tried to lean away from her, and she grabbed him firmly around the shoulders.

"Tell me."

"It was hell on earth," he whispered. Runcorn's smirking face swam up in his mind. "I need to…" He shoved her aside and grabbed the toilet seat.

Her warm hands didn't leave him. She held back his hair and dried the cold sweat from his face. After a few minutes in his undignified position the nausea subsided. He leaned back against the wall again and took her hand.

"I was the perfect Lord Black. And your little friend Felix made my luck. Guided me through conversations with some really convinced Death Eaters. Amycus Carrow, Albert Runcorn, Lucius Malfoy. I made a lasting impression. I think even Lucius will think twice before he assumes he knows me. I threw him off kilter with guilt and diamonds."

He continued to account for the evening. She listened attentively and didn't even look away when he told her about what he'd said about their marriage and her.

"I talked about you as if you were my slave, Hermione. How can you even look at me?"

"You were the Lord Black those people wanted. You were not the Lord Black I love. And thank goodness for that, they would have eaten you alive."

She leaned in and pressed her soft lips to his temple. With shivering hands he embraced her.

_The Lord Black I love. Covered in this ridiculous outfit, in cold sweat, vomit and bad fire whiskey, you say you love me. What have I done to deserve you? I've never needed to hear you say that more than just now._

Hermione rose and started to unbutton her blouse.

"I'm going to take a shower. Want to join me?"

Speechless he stayed on the floor and watched her naked form cross the room and turn on the shower. With one hand in the streams of water to feel the temperature, she faced him.

"Well? I think you need a shower more than I do, but I need you."

He scrambled on his feet and started to rip off his clothes. Hermione stayed outside the shower, and his eyes roamed her naked body while he struggled with old, complicated fastenings of his cuff links, the clock chain, billions of buttons. She giggled at his frustration, and his mood lifted.

At last he was free of the clothes that smelled of the attic and his father and he chased he into the warm drizzle. Her body was as slippery as soap and scented to match. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Rivulets of water followed the contours of her beautiful body. She lathered a bar of sandalwood scented soap and worked him all over. His acute sense of smell was grateful when the last whiffs of the cigar smoke and furniture polish from the Cantankerous disappeared down the drain.

But still he couldn't bear to pull her against him, couldn't kiss her. His own superior tone of voice came back to haunt him. He stood motionless in the warm water, his hand hanging by his sides, her hands burning him with shame.

_…interact with filth… rather tiresome… the only up-side of having her around…_

"Sirius, I need you. Please."

He looked down into her wet face and the expression in her eyes clouded the last remains of his evening.

_This is true. Earlier was a play, just acting, strategy. This girl is why I did it, why I'll keep doing it. I wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes unless I tried to unravel their secret society, their probably hideous plans._

He pulled her body flush to his own, and drank the rivulets that painted her shoulders. He crashed his lips with hers, explored her mouth with his tongue and touched her everywhere he could reach. She growled in his ear.

"Finally. I thought I'd lost you."

"Never," he panted against the skin of her breast. "Never. I love you so much. I wouldn't be able to do what I've done tonight if I didn't love you." He sucked her nipple into her mouth but couldn't find it in him to bite her or in any other way make love to her aggressively.

She hiccupped against his shoulder when he lifted her against the wet wall.

"I know. I love you too."

She winded her legs around his waist and he trusted into her. At first she threw her head back and he licked her pale neck, but quickly she straightened up and looked him in the eyes. Her eyelids fluttered every time he pushed into her, but she didn't break their gaze. She gave tell tale signs that she was close, she bit her lip and squeezed her legs harder around him. Whether it was her plump lower lip or the last remains of his own guilt, he didn't know when he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her greedily on the verge total bliss and end of all anxiety.

"Your room or mine?" he asked her when they stumbled through the third floor corridor, wrapped in towels.

"Yours, I think. Your bed is larger. And it smells of you."

He opened the door and stood back when she entered his bedroom.

"I'll make sure it smells of you too, before long."

She giggled, dropped the towel and stretched out on his unmade bed. He followed her quickly, pulling her body to his own. She settled with her head on his shoulder and a leg thrown over his hips. None of them spoke, and Sirius began to think she had fallen asleep. He sighed deeply, not quite able to cast off the bitter after taste of the Lord Black he impersonated earlier.

Hermione locked her leg around him and brought up her arm to embrace his shoulder.

"Don't fret. I'll keep you like this until you see straight. You are not who you played tonight."

"But what if I am? It came so naturally to me, it…"

"You took a good-luck potion. To have luck at the Cantankerous, you needed to be your father, or someone like him."

"Hm."

"Still not convinced?" She sat up, pulled the duvet around her and straddled him. "Look at me."

He did, and the expression 'a sight for sore eyes' made sense for the first time in his life.

"Who am I?" she asked.

"You are the most beautiful, smartest, sexiest, kindest woman who ever entered this house," he answered, stroking her legs under the duvet.

"No, no, what is my name? What name goes with the person you see? The person holding you prisoner?" She squeezed his ribs with her thighs.

"Hermione."

"Yes, and anyone else? Can you see, can you feel anyone else here?"

"No, just you. But not that much of you."

She let the duvet slip and sat naked over his thighs. He'd managed to give her a few love bites, after all, he noticed.

"Once I took Polyjuice potion and became Bellatrix," Hermione continued. I was her, every atom of me was her. Am I still?"

He cringed.

"No, of course not."

"Are you sure?"

He looked into her dark eyes and tried, really tried to find a flicker of his demented cousin there. A hint of madness and sadism, but saw only love, compassion and stubbornness. He trailed his hands over her flat stomach, her ribs and reached her breasts. They fit perfectly in his large hands, and her hardening nipples distracted him from the discussion.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"Because if not, if I'm still part Bellatrix Lestrange, this situation would be rather disgusting."

"Yes, but it isn't," he mumbled. "It's heaven."

Still she wouldn't let go of convincing him.

"You know, when Harry and I were in our fifth year I once listened to a very intelligent wizard, well, eavesdropping actually, who tried to soothe and comfort Harry when he was afraid he was becoming more like Voldemort who, at that time, invaded Harry's mind. This wise wizard said that it's our choices that make us who we are. He said that all of us have both good and bad, both dark and light within us, but it is how we choose to act than determines who we are."

"Clever man. Dumbeldore, right? Or Remus?"

"No, Sirius, it was you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you were in the room with the tapestry, I was on the stairs outside. Harry felt so much better after that talk. He really needed to hear that from someone he trusted. At that time, you were probably the only one."

He pulled her further up his body.

"Well, I can tell you what I need…"

"Can you promise me never to doubt yourself like this again? You chose the light side within you ages ago. And the contrast to the dark sides inside you, the sides forced upon you from an early age, is huge. I do see how difficult this is to you, but no one would be able to do it better. Imagine if Harry was a pure-blood. Where would he find the depths of darkness to create the role you played tonight? Or Ron, who is a pure-blood…"

"Oi! His name is not allowed in this bed," Sirius protested, pinching her in the side, utterly fed up with the topic.

Hermione pushed on.

"…wouldn't have a clue."

He drew patterns with his fingernails on the small of her back, which seemed to get her attention.

_Your eyes are getting darker, sweetie. I know I've got you now._

She stretched with her arms over her head, preparing to fold herself into his embrace.

"You know, Sirius, I was even a cat once. On Polyjuice Potion."

"A cat?" he chuckled. "Well, that explains why this old dog wants nothing else than bite you."


	24. Another note from the author

Dear all,

I received a review that wasn't as positive as most reviews you send me. It was from a guest, and yes, I would also have posted as a guest, if I wanted to write such a critical review. You can all read it, I haven't removed it.

The review concerns people presumed being dead, but aren't. The reviewer seemed particularly upset about Rabastan and Karkaroff being alive and kicking, when supposed to be dead. Well, I really don't like bringing in too many new characters and these two are only presumed to be dead according to HP wiki. And I needed some bad chums for Malfoy, simple as that. And a link to Rudolphus.

On another note... No, exactly the same note: Sirius is supposed to be dead. Hermione is supposed to be married to Ron. Remus and Tonks are dead. Eh, isnt' this what fan fiction is about? Rewriting the destinies of the characters? But if you don't like AU fan fiction, my story is definitely not for you. There are plenty of canon-stories out that won't upset you. I'm not offended, slightly confused perhaps, but if you agree with Shacklebolt being the head of a still active Order after the war, you'll just have to agree to the other AU-twists as well.

Another comment in the review was that I leave more questions open than answered. OK, point taken, but now we're dealing with a larger field than fan fiction. Now we're dealing with narrative writing in general. Of course I leave questions open! How else would I get you readers to continue reading my next update?

Please continue to review. Positive reviews are lovely, and critical reviews are eye-opening.

Love, Kia


	25. Baby shower at the Cantankerous

**Let's see what you make out of this. And let's apologize for Sirius' behavior here. He's really the perfect Lord Black.**

Sirius kept going to the Cantankerous every Sunday evening. When he returned home, he didn't feel as bad as the first night. If the evening had been particularly gruesome, Hermione instantly read it in his face when he returned and made him forget his acting and come back to his real self.

The third time he went to the club he joined the poker table. He cleared out Crabbe in an hour, and then he let Lucius Malfoy win all the gold he had brought. He pretended to be annoyed, when Malfoy chuckled and said something about 'bad losers.' Neither of the Lestrange brothers was at the club for the rest of the summer, and Sirius didn't ask after them. He was not supposed to be aware of any link between himself and Rudolphus Lestrange. And he couldn't care less about Rabastan.

One evening in August Harry and Ginny came by Grimmauld Place and announced that Ginny was pregnant.

"That was quick," Sirius remarked to Hermione, after his godson with wife had left.

"No, it wasn't," Hermione laughed. "Ginny was pregnant before they got married. The marriage law came at just the right time for them."

"Meaning?"

"Dealing with Mrs Weasley. She is as liberal as anyone in some respects, but I doubt her baby daughter getting pregnant out of wedlock would go down well."

Sirius chuckled and buttoned his shirt. It was Sunday night and the Cantankerous. If Albert Runcorn was there, Sirius considered skipping the poker and talk more with Runcorn. With his background as a magical genealogist, Runcorn knew the pure-bloods better than anyone. He'd been adamant in keeping tracks on blood statuses during the former Voldemort-controlled administration. Was he still? What were his views on the New Deal? Sirius had sensed some contempt when they had spoken a couple of weeks ago. Would Runcorn be willing to talk more about it? Share his opinions?

"And what about the whiskey, Sirius?"

"What about it?"

"Still willing to drink something that makes you sick just to blend in?"

"They serve that brand Blishen's because they've always done so. And Ogden's was founded by a muggle-born. But I plan to make a fuss about it. Or drink beer. I won't come home neither drunk or sick."

"Good. And I'll be here waiting. I have some lesson planning to do."

The Hogwarts term was to start in two weeks, Hermione would leave a week before the students arrived. They hadn't really discussed their separation. Sirius didn't want to. His life felt like a bubble, and he didn't want to burst it.

_ We'll cross that bridge when we get there. But I don't want to get there._

He wished Hermione wouldn't work. He didn't mind her having a career, not at all, but working at Hogwarts meant being away during the weeks, and he didn't even want to think about her not being with him.

_ I wish I could convince her to stay. What if I buy a house in Hogsmeade?_

_ Yeah, right. How convincing would that be? Lord Black leaving his mansion to be close to the wife he claims was forced on him, and whom he sees as nothing but an inconvenience? Leaving all his new friends at the Cantankerous? Leaving London and closeness to the Ministry. Hogsmeade is an isolated village, as far from the buzzing London as possible._

Sirius watched Hermione setting up her books, parchments and bottles of ink on the kitchen table. An all night teaching planning. He knew she liked teaching, liked the students and to be part of the teaching faculty. Did she like it better than she liked him?

_ Don't do this to yourself! _

_ But I can't help it. I wish she'd have a baby and stay at home._

_ Says Lord Black?_

_ Well, yes… Fuck Lord Black!_

Ginny and Harry had been euphoric about their news. The baby was calculated to be born just after New Year. For a second the happy couple had been a mirror of James and Lily, and Sirius had thought he'd be an uncle. But the second passed and he realized he'd be closer to a grandfather, as Harry was almost a son to him. The revelation had made him gasp. Hermione had noticed and smiled at him. He had wondered why she wasn't pregnant. They hadn't discussed children after that first day at the Ministry, when Hermione had pressed Jon Eckhart about the validity of their impending marriage. But that had been at a time when both of them had regarded their marriage as a sham.

_ Is there something wrong with me? Or her? It can't be lack of trying. Oh, I'd love to have children with her. But how fertile can one be after two years as good as dead? Or after that bastard Lestrange?_

"Well, I'll be off then."

"Gold enough?"

"Heaps. I'll make someone a really lucky man tonight."

"And me a very happy wife when you get home?" She winked at him.

"That's a promise. Just hold that thought."

He blew her a kiss and apparated away.

* * *

Sirius didn't have to make a fuss about the fire whiskey or drink Fishy Green Ale. Lucius Malfoy had brought crates of champagne, to celebrate the birth of his grandson. Sirius matched Lucius' giddy happiness and proposed a toast for the new-born baby. There would definitely not be any poker with Lucius and his closest friends tonight. They were all occupied to listen to Lucius rant about what advantages the little boy would be entitled to when he grew up. Lucius even called the manager of the club to set up a membership for his new heir.

The manager came, listened to Lucius' rather boisterous demands, but seemed reluctant to comply. He asked Lucius to accompany him to his office, which Lucius did reluctantly. Sirius topped up his champagne, took an armchair and waited for his return. Someone drew a chair close to his and sat down.

"I only saw you for a second the other week. Coming here a lot now, are you?"

Sirius turned and faced Rabastan Lestrange. With the help of the Felix potion he kept his face from frowning in disgust. Rabastan had been handsome when he was young, but the years, Azkaban and the war hadn't been good on him. His face was badly scarred by fire on one side and frozen in a constant expression of mild surprise. It rhymed ill with the other side that was as shrewd and probing as ever.

"Rabastan, my old friend! Yes, yes, I am. I look forward to my Sunday evenings here all week," he lied.

"I knew you once. When we were very young. When my brother courted your cousin. But after that you've been off the radar. Care to fill me in?"

"Not really." Sirius gestured with his champagne glass. "I was a bit lost, you knew that, but I'm Lord Black until the day I'll die and I'll honour that and behave accordingly."

"So I've heard. I heard Karkaroff checking you."

"He did? Whatever for?"

"To see if there might be other "old friends" you spent time with."

_ Meaning other Order members. Meaning people once allied with Dumbledore. And Hermione and I haven't really been looking for company._

"You know my reputation. I'm a lone wolf. I like my house."

_ that thankfully is warded. _

"But going here is definitely a nice contrast," Sirius continued. "Keeps me from being a total hermit. Wish I could beat Lucius in poker, though."

"But you're not alone in the Ancient and Most Noble House, are you? I hear you've married."

Sirius shrugged.

"Wherever did you hear that? Well, it's true, but the least of my concerns. I tend to forget about it most of the time. The Ministry forced me, and you know we'd better bend a little after their will to keep them happy. They'd be pests if I had refused. I think Mrs Black will leave for Hogwarts soon, and I can forget about her until Christmas. With some luck until next June. Let's drink to that!" He emptied his glass and downed the bitter taste of lies.

"But why did the Ministry pair you up with her?"

_ Careful, but not too careful._

"I guess they needed to pair me up with someone. They wouldn't want the Black blood dry out. They could have paired me up with anyone."

"But this woman? Did you even know her?"

"Briefly."

"Didn't she have anyone else? Someone she loved? Someone who actually wanted her?"

Sirius felt sweat trickling down his back. He reached for a bottle of champagne and refilled their glasses, trying to make a good imitation of someone making the most out of free drinks.

"What do I know? I guess she didn't."

"But, if…"

"Look, Rabastan." Sirius straightened up. "Why bother about her? She's just a muggle-born witch with mediocre magical skills. I'm not surprised she didn't have a boyfriend to marry. I chose to comply with the Ministry's wishes, and hope that bloody Shacklebolt and his gang will leave me alone now. I have no interest in the new modern world the Ministry is trying to create. I'm conservative, and if that means I have to live a secluded life, so be it. I hardly notice her, it's not like I'm living with her. Why are you so interested?"

Rabastan's un-scarred eyes narrowed in thought.

_ Yes, how much are you going to trust me?_

"I just heard that someone else was interested in her. Someone… in our circles."

_ Go on._

But Rabastan didn't continue, and the glint in his good eye told Sirius that he wouldn't share more. Sirius shrugged.

"Well, I wish I could say that he could have her, but somehow I think these marriages are non-divorceable," he improvised. He knew damn well he could divorce Hermione, or she him.

"They are?" Rabastan asked.

"That's what they told me, but since I'm not the marrying kind, I didn't care. Signing a piece of parchment and make an impression of being a modern wizard in the eyes of the Ministry, didn't bother me."

_ I want to ask you who, just to see if you'd say your brother's name, but Felix seems to tell me that you'd clam up and go away if I do._

"Anyway, Rabastan, I was so glad to see you the other night. I thought you were dead. Like our lovely Bellatrix."

"In the eyes of the modern world of the Ministry I am. As is Karkaroff and about one third of the guests here."

"I've come to see that," Sirius said thoughtfully. "And it makes me very happy. I was a fool once, but I'm grateful to learn it is not too late to turn around. Do you play poker, by the way?"

"Not tonight, but another night I'm happy to clear you out."

The door to the manager's office slammed open and a very angry Lucius Malfoy came into sight. Sirius gave him a concerned look to call him over and spill his heart, but Lucius missed it, and started talking to a few other friends. They stood close enough for Sirius to pick up enough of their conversation.

"…meaning his blood status isn't certified enough. …their ancient rules… …only followed the guidelines. Well, so have we, the bloody Ministry's guidelines. …tells me to wait a couple of months and then apply again."

Sirius frowned. So, the new-born Malfoy wasn't acceptable at the Cantankerous. Was that really a surprise? The new-born boy's mother was half-blood, Cho Chang. But the Cantankerous would not gain any new members with their rules. There simply wouldn't be any new pure-bloods born. On the other hand, from what Sirius knew about the pure-blood population, the more manic pure-blood population, he knew they'd rather die refusing than living in compliance if it went against their idiotic beliefs.

"You look worried, Black."

Sirius looked up to see Runcorn taking the seat Rabastan Lestrange had left.

"Well, there seem to be a problem with Lucius' application for his grandson, but I can't understand why he's fussing. Lucius knows the boy isn't pure-blood. Why would the boy merit for a membership?" Sirius tried to look bewildered, imitating the expression his mother used to wear when he had tried to talk to her. The why bother-expression. The I-know-I'm-right-and-you-are-a-lost-cause-expressi on.

Runcorn chuckled softly.

"Oh, I don't know. Give the boy a few months. The club might come around."

Now Sirius really was bewildered.

"I don't follow, Runcorn. What do you mean? He'll still have a half-blood mother, won't he?"

"Not necessarily." Runcorn smiled viciously. "Magical Genealogy. Interesting subject. Mistakes can sneak into a family tree. And out. It's about the status of the family tree at the time it is magically certified, that matters."

_ What are you saying Runcorn? And why are you smiling?_

"Magically certified?"

"Yes, that's my line of business."

"Oh, really?"

"Well, I'm not really allowed to discuss this outside work, but here and now I guess I can fill you in."

"You work at the Ministry, don't you?"

"Yes, at a department in the Wizengamot Administration Services. We are a very small department. Working downstairs. With certifying family trees. Pretty much like we've always done."

_ Meaning the Department of Mysteries. Meaning where the right hand doesn't know what the left is doing. A department within another department._

"But with a family tree such as yours, I don't think we'd scrutinize it. Don't you worry, Black. Get as many bastards as you'd like with the little wife, but let me know when you've had enough. You want children, don't you?"

_ No. Yes. How the fuck do I answer this? What does he mean? When I've had enough? Children? Of Hermione? Is he implying…? Mistakes sneaking in? And out?_

"I haven't really thought much about it," Sirius answered in the role of couldn't-care-less-about-anything-but-only-myself Lord Black.

"Well, do. Think about it and we'll talk more another night. Looks as if Lucius is leaving. Do you think he'll leave the champagne?"

"My bet is there will be plenty," Sirius laughed light-heartedly.

* * *

He got back late. He'd never been at the Cantankerous as late at this. It was past two in the morning, and the house was dark. He could smell his own sweat. He undressed on his way to the bathroom, leaving his clothes in a trail after him. He spent a long time in the shower, the sweat and smoke and general atmosphere of the club impossible to wash away.

Was Runcorn implying there were ways of getting rid of all records of a family member, even magically? To claim someone was pure-blood, and if that claim was certified, it would become… the truth?

The water was getting lukewarm and Sirius felt he was almost falling asleep standing.

In the hall he levitated the clothes on hangers, cast a cleaning spell on them and was just about to go upstairs when something caught his attention. The curtains around his mother's portrait weren't shut, but she was quiet, which was a new combination. Wrapping a towel around his waist he went towards the entrance door.

"Lumos."

His mother looked back at him. Quietly. Almost smiling. He kept silent, waiting for her to begin screaming. He'd love to scream back at her tonight.

"Sirius," she said.

"Mother," he answered as politely as he could muster.

"You've been at the club I've heard."

"Who told you that?"

"Your new Mrs Black."

"Hermione? Did you talk to her? What happened to screaming and cursing everyone in sight," he snarled at the portrait.

"Now, now, Sirius. Calm down. We had a nice little chat, Mrs Black and myself. Could you perhaps draw the curtains now? I'm rather tired."

Wondering if he perhaps was dreaming he did as he was asked. Walking upstairs he felt his brain shutting down from impression- and information overload. Hermione's room was empty. He staggered to his own and found her sleeping in his bed. Carefully her crawled under the duvet, pulled her relaxed and warm body to his own and fell asleep.


	26. Sweet Morning

**Currently over stressed from work and searching for another gear. I'd like to update daily. I'd like to write daily. I don't get what I want, but I hope you want his.**

**Love, Kia**

At the crack of dawn, he felt Hermione slip out of his arms, but he was too tired to protest. He heard the shower from the bathroom and fell back into a light slumber. What felt like seconds later, she curled her body around his. She was cool from the shower and her hair still damp. The moisture heightened her scent though and parts of Sirius' sleeping mind decided sleep was overrated.

He turned towards her and looked at her with bleary eyes. Her eyes were alert and had a naughty glint.

"Sorry I came back so late," he rasped.

"I fell asleep early. And you're here now." She drew her fingernails down his chest and he hissed. "Are you awake?"

"Sufficiently… "

He caught her lips with his and tasted her sweet mouth. She lay still, also a little dazed in the early morning, and he decided he'd try something.

"I love kissing you," he mumbled against her lips. "Your lips, your neck." He slipped down her body. "Your breast." She moaned when he took a nipple between his teeth. "And you love it too." He got a positive response in the form of a suppressed whimper. "Now I'm going to find new places you love just as much." He licked her bellybutton, continued to the side of her tummy, went a little lower, and hit gold. His tongue on spot an inch above her groin on her right side had her wriggling and purring in the most amazing way. He teased her with his teeth and wondered if the other side was just as sensitive. It was. He slipped further down her body, his sense of smell telling him exactly what she wanted. What he wanted. Her folds were slick and he controlled her with his tongue.

"Sirius, please…"

Her taste was, if possible, sweeter than two days earlier, when he'd had his way with her on the porch at sunset, and he almost forgot his little experiment. With the last shreds of self-control he pulled away and chuckled at her disappointed "no."

He kissed his way down her thighs, Hermione sighing giddily. When he reached the inside of her knee, she changed her tune.

"Oh!"

"Oh, as in good?"

"Mmm. Do it again."

Sirius complied willingly, nipping the fold of her left knee while stroking its right counterpart.

"Please stop it," she whispered.

He did and continued down her calf.

"No," she complained.

"Wait," he mumbled, kissing her ankle. Having almost reached her toes, he had her purring again.

_ Your body is so easy to please. I don't know what I'd otherwise. The mere thought of your naked body reduces my stamina to teenage levels. _

Hermione withdrew her feet and placed them on his shoulders.

"Sirius, please, stop."

"Stop what, sweetie?"

"Teasing."

He crawled up her body and kissed her properly before he leaned on his elbows and watched her.

"All right. But you loved it."

"Yes, but now…"

"Now what? What do you want now?"

"You."

"I'm right here," he teased.

"Inside me."

He trusted inside her hard and thought he'd loose it immediately when she arched her neck, closed her eyes in bliss and bit her lower lip.

"Yes," she hissed before meeting everyone of his trusts. She gripped his upper arms and he had to close his eyes too, when he saw the small muscles in her shoulders flex. Her legs went around his waist, and he reached down to pet the fold of her knee. It sent her into a violently thrusting climax that brought him with her.

Panting into her hair, trying not to crush her with his weight he mumbled into her ear.

"I'll never get enough of you, sweetie. You are amazing."

_ Never get enough? Why did I say that? Oh, that bloody Runcorn. Stay the fuck away from my bedroom! But what did he mean?_

"You can have me as much as you want, Sirius. I can't focus on anything remotely intellectual when you are in the same room."

Sirius felt himself drawn back to sleep. He rolled off her and pulled her against him. A few minutes later he could distantly register that she left the bed, but this time the still sleeping parts of his brain decided to take over.

* * *

The midday sun had made the bedroom uncomfortably warm when Sirius woke up. He was alone in the bed and after checking his watch he wasn't surprised.

He'd had the most confusing dream. He'd dreamt he's been talking to, not shouting at, his mother's portrait, and that she had answered in a civil tone. He smiled, shook his head and wondered briefly what a muggle psychologist would make out of that. But the dream had seemed real enough.

Walking down the stairs he let go of his ponderings, but when he reached the hall the closed curtains around the usually disturbing portrait drew him in.

"FILTH! In my father's house! How dare you betray the Noble and Most Ancient…"

He closed the curtains again and was just about to cast a general silencing spell in his mother's direction, when he remembered something Luna had said. It had been along the lines of thinking of oneself as a pure-blood, and mumble "Toujours Pur" like a password. Not really knowing why he decided to risk his hearing again, he closed his eyes and tried to picture himself at the age of ten, repeating meaningless phrases after his parents, not yet aware of the content, just trying to please. The he lifted a corner of the curtain and mumbled his family's motto.

"Blood traitor! You cannot be a son of mine, you useless piece of…"

_ Why bother?_

* * *

Hermione was in the garden, lying on her stomach on a blanket, reading.

"Trying to talk to your mother, I heard?" she said, smiling up at him.

He sat down beside her, kissed her on the cheek, and leaned back on his elbows.

"Well, I had such a peculiar dream. I dreamt she spoke to me yesterday, when I got home."

Hermione sat up, pushing her hair behind her ear and watched him solemnly.

"That may not have been a dream. She spoke to me yesterday."

"What!" He sat up. "When? Without screaming and cursing? What did she say? Don't believe a word she says, darling, she's deranged."

"Hush. It wasn't so bad. I heard this noise from the hall, like someone clearing his throat, so I went there to see who it was. And the sound came from her portrait, so I opened it, and she was there, quiet. I greeted her politely and we talked. She wasn't aggressive or anything. Well, when she spoke about you…"

"I can imagine. Go on."

"She said she wanted to see her successor as Mrs Black of 12 Grimmauld Place. She asked me what I did, I told her I taught. Then she said that women shouldn't work, and that I would never be Mrs Black for as long as she had been if I kept working. A lot of old-fashioned stuff that I guess boiled down to 'a woman's place is at the stove and her duty is to her husband and children.' Then she bid me goodnight, and I drew the curtains. Quite surreal, and I did exactly what you just did, earlier. Checked if yesterday had been a dream. She was quite her normal self with me as well. I was amazed she didn't wake you up. What did she say to you yesterday?"

Sirius told her and they both pondered the temporary sanity of Mrs Black for a minute before they left the subject as incomprehensible. Sirius reproduced the larger part of the evening at the club, admitting his still present fear of it's being too easy to be the Lord Black people expected there.

"I've seen how that's been bothering you, but I'm not afraid of you." She leaned in and kissed him. "You bark worse than you bite."

"Oh, I'll bite you hard enough," he answered, tickling her into submission, lying flat on her back. He leaned over her, looking down in her brown eyes that were still full of laughter.

"Think about it this way, Sirius…"

_ No, I don't want to think at all now._

"… that they see everything in black and white…"

"Right now I'd like you to see only Black," he said and nibbled her collarbone. It distracted her for a second, but then she gently pushed him away and sat up.

"Black and white as in pure-bloods and not pure-bloods, I guess they don't really bother about the distinction between someone like Luna who is half-blood and someone like me."

"I can definitely see a difference between you too. I'm not remotely interested in doing this to Luna, lovely as she is." He pulled down the strap on her top and bit her naked shoulder.

"Hey! I'm trying to give you a strategy for visiting that odious club. You know, you start brooding twenty-four hours before going there. I want my Lord Black on Saturday evenings, not you fearing the next evening."

Sirius sighed and sat back.

"Sorry. I'm all ears."

"The black and white, the pure and the un-pure. Why not using it yourself? You're clever enough to keep two versions of reality and truth in your mind at the same time. We, the Order, everyone of mixed blood, pure-bloods like the Weasleys, the Shacklebolt, are the pure. Our motifs, our beliefs are pure. The club, the die-hard, hidden, double-playing Death Eaters are the un-pure; we know their beliefs, the superiority they think they possess."

"I can see your point, it makes sense in a very symmetrical way. I'll try."

Sirius lay back and Hermione rested her head on his chest.

"But yesterday things came to a breaking point at the Cantankerous, when Lucius brought up the membership issue with his grandson," he said playing with her hair. "And this manic Runcorn told me, in not so ambiguous wording, that baby Malfoy's blood status could change. It freaked me out. He's a cold one. Have you seen him?"

"Of course I have, silly. I went into the Ministry with him. When Harry was him. But yes, he comes on as someone very single-minded."

"I can't really stop thinking about what he meant. He told me to tell him when I've had enough, hinting at enough of obeying the Ministry, I'm prone to think now, since I've been rather loud about that." He pulled her closer. "You, my little wife, is someone I hardly notice, and whom I married to keep the Ministry happy and make myself appear modern, while I keep to my conservative ways. Couldn't be further from the truth. Maybe I'll pursue a career in acting."

"Mmm." She relaxed and inhaled his scent. "You'll do no such thing. You'll stay here and keep me happy."

"Are you?"

"Very."

_ Time is ticking._

"But you'll leave me."

"Never."

"Next week, in twelve days."

She groaned into his chest.

"Or you could stay."

She was silent for so long he thought she'd left the subject or fallen asleep.

"I can't do that. Minerva relies on me. I have to go. All the new little first-years will need someone to teach them Potions."

"I know. And you'll come back on weekends, right?"

"Of course. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"If I can do that without blowing your cover. Yesterday you, no, Lord Black wished his little wife would stay away 'til next summer."

The prospect of loosing Hermione, for a year, half a year, a week, a day made Sirius feel like falling off a cliff. Vertigo came over him so fast that he would have fallen if he had been standing.

"I don't care about that cover. I need you, if I'm going to maintain it. I'll go mad, like my mother, if you stay away. Please…"

She rolled over on her stomach and faced him. He could read nothing but love in her dark eyes.

"I need you too. Of course we'll find a way."

Sirius stomach grumbled.

"I'm hungry. Is it lunch I can smell from the kitchen?"

"Sure is. Come on."

* * *

After lunch Sirius remained at the table, while Hermione took their dishes to the sink.

_ Those shorts are really… short._

He silently tiptoed up behind her, cradling her waist with his large hands. She jumped before leaning back into his embrace.

"I'll just finish the dishes."

"You're playing with fire, love."

"By doing the dishes?" she teased.

"By turning your back at me in such insufficient clothes."

She let the dishes and the brush sink into the water. He had her full attention. He palmed her flat stomach and tickled the points he had discovered earlier, rewarded with a deep sigh. Gripping her hips he drew her hard against him, hissing at his own deed.

_ The kitchen table? Close enough._

Biting her neck and licking her ear lobe, he brought his hands to her breasts and cuddled them rather hard.

"Oh! Ouch!"

"Sorry, it's those barely existent shorts," he mumbled. "I'll be gentle."

She stopped pressing against him and gripped his arms to still them.

"No, wait."

He leaned over her shoulder and kissed a spot on her neck he knew always got her attention. It didn't.

"I'm late."

"For what, love? Hogwarts is two weeks away."

"No, Sirius, I'm late, late. My period is late. I think I might be…"

He felt all blood leaving his head and grabbed her to remain upright.

"…pregnant."

**You must have seen that one coming from a mile away, right?**


	27. Positive or Negative?

**Well, I just couldn't leave them there... A short one.**

Sirius' knees hit the stone floor hard, and he found himself facing the reason for his shock. Hermione's flat stomach under an almost transparent top. Reverently he pushed the thin material up and, again, palmed her soft skin, but with completely different feelings than a minute before.

"Are you sure?" he mumbled against her skin. He had no idea where his words came from, or how he was able to form them. Her fingers in his hair turned his attention back to her face. She smiled down at him, with a slightly worried expression.

"Are you OK, down there? Of course I'm not sure, I might just be late, but I feel… strange. And my breasts are sore."

Sirius scrambled to his feet, guiding her to a chair, pulling another one opposite hers and sat down.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm shocked." He gazed into her eyes, which seemed brighter than usual. And quickly brimming with tears.

_ Oh, no! She doesn't want a baby. Not now, not with me, not ever. She told me at the Ministry, what did she say? She said couldn't really see herself having children because of the childhood she'd had herself. And that damned Lestrange on top of that._

"Oh, sweetie, don't cry. Please." He pulled her out of her chair and into his lap. She curled up against his shoulder and cried, while he awkwardly stroked her back. No the cat had really got his tongue. Nothing constructive at all came to mind, and he settled for whispering sweet words of love into her hair.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped.

"For crying? For being pregnant?" he whispered and got a fresh load of sobbing and tears trickling down his neck. He decided to give Hermione the initiative; well knowing things could go to hell if he acted on assumptions. When she calmed down, he accioed a glass of water and tissue paper.

"Now, tell me, love. Is it me or your possible pregnancy or your sore breasts that make you cry? Why are your breast sore?"

"It's… I've read that it can be an early sign of pregnancy. What if I am? Pregnant? How… how would you feel? You seemed close to fainting before."

He met her gaze with a smile, and saw the worry leaving her dark, red-rimmed eyes.

"What do you think, darling? I'd be the happiest man alive, which I already thought I was." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "Question is, how would you feel?"

"I… I'd be happy too, of course," she whispered and broke into tears again.

Bewildered he cupped her cheeks.

"Then why all the tears?"

"I don't know!" She buried her face by his shoulder and this time the tears wet through his shirt.

_ I've heard pregnant women can be… weird, but these tears break my heart._

Without saying anything, he picked her up, carried her out onto the porch and placed her in a lounge chair. Crouching before her he tried to think of something to say. Hermione had buried her face in her hands, so he got no clues from her.

"I'll make some tea," he mumbled helplessly.

* * *

When he returned five minutes later, Hermione lay back in the low chair, her hands on her stomach and with a smile on her lips

_ You change quicker than lightning, love._

"Would you be really, really happy if we were to have a baby, Sirius?"

He eased down beside her in the chair, and gave her a teacup.

"Of course. This morning I thought nothing could make me happier than you, but if you are pregnant that will take happiness to completely different levels."

Her eyes glazed over again.

_ Oh, fuck! What did I say now?_

"And I'll be big and clumsy and unattractive and… full of hormones."

"No, no, no. It has nothing to do with you…"

"Nothing to do with me?! Are you out of your bloody mind?! I'm having your baby, and it has noting to do with me? What am I? A breeding machine?" Her eyes had gone black with rage and he regretted sitting so close. She looked angry enough to bite him. Hard.

"No, stop." He took her gesturing hands in his and kissed them. "Calm down. Be quiet for just one minute. I'd be delighted if we have a baby. I would love him or her with all my heart, but I already love you with all my heart, and nothing will change that. Ever. And if or when your belly shows that it carries a baby, our baby, I will still love you. You'll never be unattractive to me. Perhaps I'll be more inventive in the bedroom," he chanced a wet kiss on her neck in an effort to change her mood, but couldn't decide if she moaned or growled at his move. "But if hormones, quick mood changing hormones at all come into play at pregnancy, well… then you might very well be… pregnant."

"And impossible to live with," she sighed sadly.

"No, no, not at all. You just need to tell me what you want. And please try not to kill me, when I say stupid things."

"Well, don't say stupid things, then," she snapped.

_ Getting dizzy here, love._

"I'll try not to. Is there anything I can do for you now?"

She cuddled close to him.

"Hold me," she whispered in a small voice.

The sun reached the part closest to the garden, but the lounge chair was in shadow. Sirius felt Hermione falling asleep, but kept holding her. He tried to imagine the garden with a child running around in it. His child. He smiled, sighed and kissed the top of his wife's head. His hand reached down to rest on her stomach.

_ Really? Can it be? I've been dead, she's been tortured. My mother would have been furious. Lovely._

An hour later Hermione stirred and stretched.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"Fine. Tired. Curious."

"When will we know? How far along can you be?"

Her expression went blank when she pondered his questions.

"Maybe seven weeks. I can ask Poppy Pomfrey to check me, or I can buy a muggle pregnancy test."

"Which is the quickest way?"

"The muggle test."

"Where can we buy one?"

She laughed at his keenness and inability to sit still.

"There is a Tesco's down the road. And muggle money in my purse. I'm so tired, I don't…"

"You stay here. I'll be right back. What was it called again?"

* * *

"Sirius!" Hermione called from the bathroom an hour later. "There are two lines!"

He opened the door and looked at her with eyes the size of saucers.

"You're having two babies?"

"No! Well, I don't know. But two lines mean it's positive, I'm having a baby. Oh, sweetie, don't faint on me."

**Pregnancy hormones... What can I say? **


	28. Scheming

Sirius didn't faint. Nor did he sleep. He lay awake in the darkness of his bedroom, his mind refusing to relax enough to send him into dreamland. Or was he there already? Could Hermione's pregnancy be real? His, her, their reality? He was so far away from where he'd been about three months earlier when Remus had brought him metaphorically kicking and screaming into the world of the living. Hermione had said she felt fine, and the bizarre mood swings had decreased after Sirius had assured her about twenty times that he was indeed happy. Taken aback, amazed, not believing his luck, but truly, truly happy.

Hermione stirred beside him, and he tried to estimate the risk of her restless sleep turning into a nightmare. Drawing her close, he mumbled into her ear.

"You are with me. No need to go wandering in your mind. Just stay with me, sweetie. I need you here."

She snuggled closer and sank into deep, calm sleep again.

The sky outside the window showed signs of dawn, and Sirius realized he wouldn't sleep a wink that night.

_ Never mind. Just as well getting used to not sleeping. Babies don't, I've heard._

He forced himself to lie still, even though he most of all felt like transforming into Padfoot and bounce around, giddy with joy in the manner only a dog can be.

* * *

"Good morning, my love," he greeted Hermione later that morning when he brought her breakfast in bed.

She stretched, yawned and gave him a sleepy smile.

"Morning. Is this how it's going to be from now on? Breakfast in bed?"

"If you want. How do you feel today?"

"I'm… fine. Like yesterday. I don't really feel anything. Physically, I mean. Did you get any sleep at all? I could feel you being awake every time I woke up."

"Sorry. No, I haven't slept. I've been admiring you. Listening to you sleeping. Being happy."

"Oh, darling. Why didn't you wake me?" she gave him a naughty smile.

He stretched out next to her.

"I've heard pregnant women need as much sleep as possible."

"And why is that? What do you know about pregnant women? I'm very curious about your knowledge in the matter."

"I know that pregnant women can be moody." He stroked her stomach and tilted her towards him when she tried to say something. "And that has to do with mysterious hormones of which I know absolutely nothing, but have the deepest respect for. No, no, sweetie, don't cry," he said when he saw her eyes filling with tears. He drew her towards him and continued exploring her body with his hands. "And that some feel sick. That's why I'm probably going to ask you ten times a day how you feel, and you will eventually rip my tongue out, just to shut me up." She giggled. "And I know that this pregnant woman in my bed, has never been more beautiful." He pushed her nightie up over her breasts and softly kissed her smooth skin. He was ninety percent sure she wasn't going to bite him. Or hit him.

"Really?" she whispered, her eyes growing darker from another feeling than hormone induced sadness. "And what will you do when I go back to my normal self?"

"Stop serving you breakfast in bed. Am I out of line here?" He planted wet kisses around her breasts. "Please tell me before you try to kill me."

"No, just in line. Go on."

"I'll be gentle. Oh, god, I love you."

"No more talking, I'm sure you can put your mouth to better use," Hermione whispered and drew the nightgown over her head. "And I would never rip your tongue out. Far too counterproductive."

* * *

Later Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, Bob McGonagall and Arthur Weasley came to Grimmauld Place to discuss Sirius' visits at the Cantankerous. Hermione closed the door to the library to work with lesson plans for the impending semester, and Sirius invited his guests to the kitchen. Catching sight of his mother's portrait he hesitated, causing the hall to be crowded.

"Sirius?" Remus asked. "Why are we standing here?"

"Sorry, go ahead. Bob, could you stay back for a minute?"

Bob nodded. Sirius liked the fact that the man had come on his own two legs and not purring over Arthur's arm.

Quickly he told Bob what both Hermione and he had experienced with his mother's portrait, and asked Bob to think himself as pure-blooded as possible and open the curtains.

"Toujours Pur, is the only password I can think of," Sirius added a second before Bob touched the cloth. He stood back, out of eyesight of his mother.

"Mrs Black. How do you do?"

A muttering was heard from the frame, but she didn't begin to scream and curse.

"I'm Robert McGonagall. Nice to meet you, Mrs Black."

"You can't be my father's friend. You are much to young."

"I'm his grandson. I've met your son Sirius at the Cantankerous, and today he has invited me here."

"To the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," she said in the same rather normal voice Sirius had heard two nights ago.

"Yes, that's right Mrs Black."

"I'm glad he's finally stepping up to fill his father's shoes. Took him long enough. And the Cantankerous will do him good. Beat the last remains of that muggle-loving ideas out of his head."

"If you say so, Mrs Black. Now, good bye."

"Good bye, Mr McGonagall. A pleasure to meet you."

Bob closed the curtains with a worried expression.

"What? What is it?"

Bob shook his head slowly before looking at Sirius.

"I'm the Ministry's expert on Experimental Charms. The Ministry's, as well as my personal aim is to find counter curses to all the dark magic the last administration and Voldemort's followers left behind. I pull a different story at the club, of course. They think I'm 'protecting' some of the dark magic. To keep it… valid, usable if the need would arise again. I doubt there is another wizard alive that knows as much, feels as much as I do when it comes to sensing unknown magic. Dumbledore and I used to discuss this, he could also feel magic, before it did something. Before it jumped out of a wall and bit your head off."

"And my mother's portrait?"

"Is as full of charms, jinxes and curses as the worst artefacts I've ever come across. I've heard about your mother's portrait before I met you. The fact that it won't come off the wall, and I thought it was just a matter of sorting out the charms, but now I'm not so sure. And the amount of your mother's personality maintained in the canvas… Unheard of, Sirius. Be careful with it. Do not try and get it down yourself. Are there any other portraits of her? In other places?"

"No, no, I've checked. I looked for portraits of Phineas Nigellus when I scared him off in the beginning of the summer. Didn't want him to turn up at the Lestrange Castle and give account for what is happening here, but his only other portrait is at Hogwarts. As for my mother, this is the only one."

"Good. Let's leave it at that for now. Do not tamper with this portrait. Use the other door. Or floo."

_ Having visited Pollux recently? Aren't you a bit too paranoid? I've survived my mother with decades. Her barking is dreadful, but she hasn't bitten anyone yet._

"All right. Thank you, Bob. Let's join the others in the kitchen."

* * *

"So, you're worse than Malfoy now?" Kingsley chuckled.

"In matters of blood purity, yes," Sirius nodded. "I aim to blend in."

Arthur said nothing, but looked rather uneasy.

"But what are they getting at? They are going to die out. They know so. But from what I know of their beliefs, they rather do that then bend over. Still, there are ministers there. Ministry officials." Sirius shrugged at the thought of Runcorn.

"Try and talk more with Runcorn," Remus said. "Ask as yourself, don't care about Draco's son. Try to get him to tell you how you would go about to keep the Black bloodline as pure as…"

"…as pure as shit." Sirius finished the sentence for him.

"And Rudolphus Lestrange is back after a visit to Russia."

"So that's where he's been. I could sense his brother wanting to tell me. Karkaroff has been checking me. To see if I saw other 'old friends' as well."

Bob McGonagall meowed, and Sirius chuckled.

"Control yourself, man. You can leave here with your tail in the air, but please say goodbye to my mother first."

"Are you good on Felix potion?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Oh, yes. Hermione claims it's easy to whiz up."

Remus laughed.

"She's probably the only one who thinks so. Even Slughorn admitts it's tricky. She is one of a kind."

"Yes, she is," Sirius said proudly and smiled.

Arthur coughed and sighed.

"Sorry, but it's uncanny to see you discussing blood-purity. You seem too Black. During the first war I remember you leaving the room as soon as we hit the topic."

"Arthur, I'm still as disgusted as I was then, but I also feel that this is the first time in years I'm actually doing something. Be what it may, I'll get under the skin of Runcorn, Lestrange, Malfoy. It's an Order thing, but it's also about myself. And Hermione."

"Yes, I've come to see that," said the man who once had hoped to have Hermione as a daughter-in-law. "And I'm very happy for you. For both of you."

"In total, 169 marriages have been registered since May," Kingsley said. "We have convinced a handful to act as if they were not previously involved and live as if their marriage is only on paper. To give you some support, if questions are asked." He gave Sirius a list of ten names. "To refer to if anyone asks about your claim that other couples were more or less forced by the Ministry as well. Furthermore, Minister Bendel is a puppet. Bob here has checked her discretely, and it's not the ordinary Imperio curse, but something that lets her keep more of her own will. She is totally convinced of what she's doing is right, though. I've asked her to push for a non-divorce clause in the Vizengamot. To give the newly weds a chance to settle down. I suggested two years, I hope that will cover whatever may come. And keep Hermione safe."

Sirius nodded before he spoke.

"I'm sorry if I put you in trouble with what I say when I'm at the club. Sometimes I just have to come up with something."

"Don't worry about it. We'll sort it out." Kingsley waved his hand dismissively. "Bob, can you fill us in on Sirius' progress in the eyes of other members?"

"Well, at first many were suspicious. They hadn't forgotten his claims of innocence when he was arrested, nor him coming to the rescue in the Department of Mysteries. But somehow you seemed to befriend the right people there the first night you came. Carrow has been nothing but singing your praise."

"Carrow is an idiot," Sirius grumbled.

"That's true, but he sings rather loud. And Runcorn genuinely seems to respect you."

"I can't say the same. Even Lucius seems half decent in Runcorn's company."

"You link to Lucius is valuable. I heard Narcissa was happy with whatever you gave her."

"My mother's diamonds."

Arthur drew a deep breath.

"Lord, those are among the most valuable pieces of jewellery in the wizarding world. They could rebuild a smaller town."

Sirius shrugged.

"The framework is white gold formed as spiders and elf-bones, so they are also the ugliest piece of jewellery known to mankind. And speaking of rebuilding a small town, I sold my mother's rubies to contribute to the community of Godric's Hollow."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't. Your fortune is yours to what you please with."

"It's just money," Sirius muttered.

Remus growled, and Sirius looked at him confused.

"What? What did I say?"

"'It's just money' is something people like you can say," Remus answered. "And I'm not judging you. You are always very generous."

Sirius felt rather uncomfortable with discussing his fortune. What did they want him to do? Give it all away?

"But you cannot see the value of money in your position," Remus continued. "It's different for… well, the rest of us. And now the Ministry has begun with these Child Support programs. More or less paying people to have children. For some it's a huge difference. You have to respect that. Bill and Fleur can afford a totally different lifestyle now."

"They could have done that before, if they'd asked me," Sirius growled irritated.

"OK, let's back off here," Kingsley interrupted. "No one is accusing you, Sirius. This is not about you, but about another of the Ministry's deals. And, to be honest, Sirius, you are probably not the right man to look into this, not even as Lord Black. At the Cantankerous, I don't think many are dependent on the Child Support. I believe many there share your 'it's only money' view."

"Well, thank you, Kingsley, for not giving me another mission. And excuse me for being the last one alive in the Black family."

"Don't, Sirius. Just, don't," Remus interrupted him. "I think I'm better suited to tackle that question. We have been offered the Child Support, or been given it. Two months ago fifty gallons were deposited in our vault. The same thing last month. The goblins are not in a good mood. Administering all the gold from the Ministry is a huge extra workload for them. I'm thinking about trying to refuse it. Ask some officials at the Social Welfare Department what I'm expected to do to earn the money. Pretend to be paranoid over the fact that I think they are buying Teddy. And in a way I am. We've had pamphlets about this 'kindergarten' thing that's also included in the New Deal. I think Bill and Fleur have looked deeper into that, is that right, Arthur?"

Arthur nodded.

"Yes, they have considered it with Victoire. Fleur is doubtful, but Bill thinks it would be good for Victoire to be around more children, as they live rather secluded."

_I would never be able to let a five-year-old out of my sight. And I won't. But, as they say, people like me can say 'it's only money' and don't bother. Would I rather be poor and dependent on the Social Welfare? Of course not._

"Arthur, will you please let us know what they decide, and how it works out?" Kingsley summed up.

"Of course. The kindergarten begins the same time as Hogwarts."

Sirius heart sank at the thought of the approaching beginning of the academic year.

_She won't be able to complete the full year because of the baby. Maybe I can convince her to stay home after Christmas._

"Sirius? Hello? Where did your mind wander off to?" Remus asked.

"Oh, nowhere. Have we discussed everything? I'm to expect Lestrange on Sunday, and I should get even chummier with that moron Runcorn."

"Don't call him that," Bob interjected.

"Why not? He is."

"Yes, in a way, but a dangerous one. Calling people derogatory things can make you forget their true colours. Bastard is better."

"Bastard it is then," Sirius smiled wryly. "And the bastard Lord Black will be his new best buddy."

**Trying to keep both story lines going. Not an easy task. Bear with me. Or bare with me if that's what you like... But I'll be happy for a line, naked or not.**

**Kia **


	29. Bliss

**Sorry for the slow update. Been travelling. Lovely to get home to this little alternative universe.**

**Love, Kia**

After the four men had left, Sirius flooed Harry and asked him and Ginny over for dinner. A brief moment he considered asking Ron and Lavender, but couldn't. Hermione didn't seem to harbour any ill feelings against Ron, but Sirius himself couldn't see himself having dinner with a man he knew had touched her. And cheated on her. And Hermione seemed to feel belittled compared to Lavender.

_Nonsense! Lavender is a bimbo in comparison._

* * *

He cooked and brought up two bottles of wine, before he realized only Harry and himself would drink alcohol. And did Hermione want to share their baby news with anyone? Did Harry, and Ginny for that matter, even know about Sirius and Hermione's changed relationship? The young couple had been away most of the summer. How would they react? Suddenly Sirius felt old again. Hidden away in a world populated by only himself and that incredible witch of his, he didn't think about the age difference, but if someone were to have objections it would be people of Hermione's age. Her closest friends. Friends she'd shared secrets with. Harry, whom she shared almost everything with. He still felt jealous when he thought about how easy they always had seemed together. And he knew why.

_ I can't have these thoughts! I'll go mad! I won't even be able to enjoy Quidditch, without wanting Krum to perish in the most violent accident._

_ She's having your baby._

_ Yeah, but I'm still…_

_ And she loves your lovemaking. No one else's._

_ Fair enough. I need her now._

He let the stew simmer and went in search of his wife. The mere thought of her turned him on. The library door was still closed and not even his canine hearing could pick up any scribbling of quill against parchment.

_ Time for a brake then, love?_

But his hopes crumpled at the sight of Hermione sleeping over the desk. A stack of neatly written parchments lay at her left elbow, and the lid of the inkpot was screwed on. She rested on her forearms in what looked like the most uncomfortable position. Sirius tried to pick her up carefully, but she woke up.

"I know of a few enjoyable things to do on my desk, but sleeping on it is not included," he mumbled into her hair.

"I'm just so tired," Hermione complained. "It feels as if I can sleep all the time."

"Then maybe you should," Sirius suggested when she'd curled up on the couch. "Look, I've asked Harry and Ginny over. Are you up to that?"

Hermione yawned.

"Of course. There is nothing wrong with me, I'm just tired."

"Do you think we should… I mean, are you going to tell them? About this?" He stroked her stomach and leaned in to inhale her. Hermione drew her fingers through his hair, and he felt an urge to cancel on Harry and just stay with his head in her lap, pressed to her stomach for the rest of the evening.

"No. Not yet. It's something about twelve weeks, bad luck telling anyone before that."

"But you're not superstitious, love."

"No, but still… And perhaps we should let Harry get used to the idea of you and me, before we add another person to the crowd."

_ Another person. The three of us here._

"You are right. You are always right. Do you think Harry will be OK with us?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"Well, he might feel… I don't know, freaked out. I'm almost his father, you're almost his sister. Ugh, I'm freaked out now."

"Hush. I'm not Harry's sister, I'm his friend. And you were far too irresponsible when Harry was young to be that kind of father figure. Don't fret. I think Harry wants us both happy. He'll come around."

Sirius turned to lie on his back, still with his head in Hermione's lap. He took her left hand and rubbed her rings softly. Totally relaxed she leaned back.

"Hermione?"

"Mm."

"How do you feel about… money?"

"Eh? What do you mean? In general? Good to have. Difficult to shop without."

"Well, no. About… my money. About all the bloody, probably cursed gold in my vault. About the fact that I wouldn't be able to spend all my money in 200 years, even if I tried."

She chuckled.

"Discussed Child Support with your guests?"

He marvelled over how she could see right through him. Always. He filled her in, and told her how uneasy Remus had made him feel when reprimanding him about his 'it's only money' comment.

"Oh, Sirius. No one thinks you are uncaring or unsympathetic just because you don't have to worry about money. Once perhaps, people like Molly and Arthur would have had problems seeing the true you behind the title, the benefits, the fortune, but after the war… If something good came out of the war, it would be the ability to see other values than money. Everyone in the Order knows you'd support any project or family financially if needed. And right now, playing double at the poker table on Sunday evenings, your fortune comes in handy, doesn't it?"

Sirius evaluated her words. He decided to leave 'it's only money' for Sunday evenings.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?"

"How do you personally feel about my money?"

She made slow patterns with her fingertips on his chest and he stilled her hand to be able to keep focus.

"It's your money. It has nothing to do with me."

"But it has. We are married. You can have half of it. You can have all of it."

"But I don't want it. I have my own money. Spoil me occasionally, and support Remus and Tonks if they are going to refuse the Child Support. When are Harry and Ginny coming?"

"Any minute. Rise and shine, my sleeping beauty."

"Oh, muggle reference!"

"What?"

"Never mind."

* * *

Despite her previous words, Sirius noticed Hermione creating some space between them, once Harry and Ginny had arrived. Or, perhaps more correctly, Hermione stole Ginny away to talk about the latter's pregnancy.

"Butterbeer?" Sirius asked Harry.

"Perhaps something stronger?" his godson asked. "I'm trying to be supportive when I'm with Ginny who can't drink, but I could do with some wine."

"Certainly." Sirius uncorked one of the bottles of red he'd brought from the cellar, and wondered briefly how Hermione would decline a glass to her meal later. They all knew she liked red wine.

"I'm really happy for you, Harry. Cheers. Is everything all right with the baby? I understand Ginny was furious for missing her chance in the World Cup."

Harry chuckled.

"Furious? That's putting it mildly. She'll be back on her broom before the baby is a week old. And all her emotions, fury included, are blown out of proportion. Pregnancy hormones are worse than an Hungarian Horntail with a toothache."

_ Yes, I know._

"Oh, really. You brought down Voldemort, Harry. Are you saying…"

"Some days I'd rather face Voldemort on an Hungarian Horntail. No, I'm not serious, but I'm living in a strange world right now. But I wouldn't change it."

Sirius smiled, biting his tongue. Harry continued.

"But I've heard I should be happy for you too. For both of you."

Sirius hesitated before he met his godson's eyes.

"Are you OK with that, Harry? Hermione and me?"

Harry met his gaze with an expression Sirius couldn't decipher.

"At first, I didn't know what to think about this forced marriage. Hermione's and my situations were so different from each other. But I trusted you, I mean, I trust you and I was grateful for what you were prepared to do. When Luna let it slip that you… well, that your marriage wasn't as much of a convenience marriage as we'd thought I was a bit shocked, but now… I am happy for both of you."

Sirius chuckled.

"You know, when I saw Luna the last time, this marriage was still an act. That witch sees a lot more than the rest of us."

Harry agreed.

Ginny and Hermione entered the kitchen and they all sat down to eat. The topic of conversation was to the larger part about Quidditch. Romania had beaten, actually crushed England in the finals, something Ginny swore never would have happened if Harry hadn't made her pregnant.

"It wasn't really non-consent," Harry protested and blushed.

"No, but still. If you hadn't said anything I would have played anyway. I could have evaded mother's questions until after the World Cup, but the minute she turned to you, you gave it away without saying a word."

"I wouldn't have let you play, even if your mother wouldn't have known. Not when you're having a baby. What if something would have happened?"

"It wouldn't," Ginny assured him. "I'm smaller and quicker than any of the other players in any of the national teams. I would have caught the Snitch, while we were ahead."

Hermione laughed listening to her stubborn friend. Sirius thought that he felt exactly like Harry. He too would like to keep his pregnant love safe, preferably with him all the time. Not at Hogwarts. He sat opposite her, toed off his shoes and caught her calf with his foot. She gave him a smile and distractedly played footsie with him under the table. It wasn't like the heated foreplay he'd pulled a couple of weeks before in the garden, during the Order meeting, but more of an affirmance that he had her in his mind all the time.

Hermione proposed a toast to Ginny's next six month under supervision, hoping she wouldn't maim anyone, especially not Harry.

"Oh, you'll see what it's like when you become pregnant," Ginny muttered and promised she'd tried to 'be good.'

The evening passed pleasantly. When Harry and Ginny said their good byes in the hall, Sirius reached for Hermione and pulled her against him, with her back to his chest. She didn't object, and he felt relieved. They hadn't showed affection in public before, but Harry and Ginny both seemed OK with their relationship.

_ On the other hand, as long as I'm Lord Black once a week, we should keep it down. Never know who might be watching._

When the door closed, Sirius turned Hermione around and caressed her face with his hands.

"One day I want everyone to see that you are truly my wife."

"One day everyone will," she answered simply and kissed him softly.

"How are you feeling? Still tired?"

"More like I'd give my left arm for a glass of that wine you and Harry drank. Do you think they noticed I didn't have any?"

"No. And, no, you can't have any. Maybe I can think of a way of distracting you?" he said and ghosted his breath along her neck.

She chuckled.

"You can try."

* * *

The next morning Sirius didn't have to ask his "How are you feeling?-question." He had just prepared a breakfast tray when her heard Hermione sprinting to the upstairs bathroom and be violently sick.

_ Oh, no. Is this also part of the 'bliss'?_

He found her in a heap on the bathroom floor, white as a sheet and unwilling to leave the cold tiles.

"The room spins when I move," she whimpered. "Oh, this is worse that anything I've ever…"

The rest of her words went down the drain.

Sirius rubbed his face, in concern, worry and at loss what to do.

"Can I get you anything, love? A cup of tea? Some toast?"

Her answer was, again, directed elsewhere that at him. He flushed the lavatory and squatted behind her. Her skin was clammy and cold, and he went in search of a blanket. When he came back, she leaned against the wall, looking pretty much as ill as he'd felt the first time he came home from the Cantankerous. She also looked as she was falling asleep. Carefully he picked her up and carried her back to the bed.

"Need anything?" he whispered.

"Water. A bucket?"

He accioed a glass of water and went downstairs to see if he could find her other required object. When he came back she was asleep. He sat down at the foot end of her bed, touching her leg softly. She was warmer now.

_ Is it supposed to be this violent? She was all right yesterday._


	30. Hell

**I've been busy with deadlines that have been strangling my creativity, but now I'm about to reward your patience with several chapters. Please, drop me a line when you're done reading, your reviews really make my day.**

**Love, Kia**

But it was that violent. After three days of not being able to keep anything down, and only been awake for short periods of time, Hermione started to look really thin and really ill. The sight of her pale face against the pillow physically hurt Sirius.

_ What can I do for you, my love? I can't just watch your misery._

* * *

"Tonks!" he called out the minute he appeared in Lupin's cottage. "Where are you? Come here right now! I need your help. Now!"

Tonks came into the hall in their small house.

"Wotcher, Sirius. Hold your goblins. I'm right here. No need to shout. Oh, lord, what has happened to you, you look like… well, you look dreadful." She came closer and embraced him. He leaned into her embrace, thankful for the verbal and physical response of another human being.

"It's Hermione. I… she… we could use your help. As a woman."

Quickly he summed up the previous week. Tonks hardly had a second to light up at the news of Hermione's pregnancy before he relayed the state she was in now."

"Oh, poor sweetie. Well, I didn't have any morning sickness at all, when I was pregnant…"

"Morning sickness?" Sirius countered irritated. "She's sick all day. And night. Morning sickness suggests it's only in the mornings."

"Some women can have it worse than others."

"I doubt anyone could have it worse than she. Is there anything I can do? Anyone could do? She's hardly responding when I try to talk to her."

"Oh, that bad. I guess you could take her to St. Mungo's. No, wait. Lord Black wouldn't do that, would he?"

"Bloody hell, fuck Lord Black! I don't care!"

"I know. And I wasn't suggesting you shouldn't seek help. Maybe Poppy Pomfrey would be safer. And even better. Or Molly Weasley. I'll floo and ask, you go back to Hermione. I'll come over with someone."

Sirius felt so tired he didn't trust himself to apparate, and flooed home instead. He walked up the stairs with a heavy heart, afraid he'd find Hermione on the bathroom floor, but she hadn't moved an inch under the duvet of her bed. Unable to do anything he carefully lay down beside her, taking her hand in his and closed his eyes.

He woke up when Molly shook his shoulder. The Weasley mother, the mother of six showed a concerned expression. She asked him questions in whispers, not to disturb the other sleeping person in the bed.

"Go downstairs and get a teapot of warm water, Sirius."

"No tea?"

"No, just water. I have tea with me."

"She won't drink it."

"Oh, yes she will," the older woman assured him.

* * *

The scents that rose from the steaming water, when Molly stirred her tea into it, made him think about his brother's potion. Smells he associated with times when he'd been focused, not necessarily happy, but strong and well and determined. Times when things had gone his way. An instant when he and James had been on an Order mission and he knew, really knew that their preparations, their weeks of under cover surveillance, their endless checking of things that could go wrong, would turn out the way he wanted. The way he had planned.

"Hermione? Sweetie? Wake up."

She muttered something and crawled under the duvet.

"No, love, I need you to wake up for me. I need you to drink something."

"No use," he could make out in her muffled voice.

Molly Weasley took over. Her sharp voice cut the silence in the room apart.

"Hermione. You listen to me now. Sit up. Think of something else than throwing up and drink this. It will make you feel better. It really will."

"No, just leave me alone."

Molly ripped the duvet off her, and Sirius watched in sympathy her thin frame curling up at the cold feeling of the air. Hermione tried to sit up, but failed miserably and fell back limply. Sirius eased himself behind her and held her.

_ She's so thin. Can you loose so much weight from not eating in only three days?_

"Hermione, look at me," Molly said sharply. "A teaspoon of this. That's all I ask, and you will, by Merlin keep it down."

Hermione sighed. Molly carefully held the cup to her lips and watched her take a tiny sip. Her head fell back on Sirius shoulder.

"Has she fallen asleep again?" he whispered.

"I don't know." Molly shook Hermione's bony shoulder, unnecessarily hard, Sirius thought.

"And now another sip. Do you hear me, Hermione? You really need to get this tea down."

Obligingly Hermione took another sip of the proffered cup. Sirius could feel her stomach muscles contract and cold sweat cover her body.

"Really?" he asked Molly.

"Yes, really," she snapped back.

Sirius clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. If he hadn't felt so helpless and been so at loss on what to do for Hermione, he would have kicked Molly out. He whispered idle words to keep Hermione awake, and, he hoped, to distract her from her nausea.

"And now another sip," Molly's shrill voice demanded, which Hermione obeyed.

The full cup of tea took an hour to empty, and Hermione's nausea actually did subside.

"Thank Merlin," Sirius sighed when Hermione looked at him with clear eyes and smiled.

"Thank me," Molly muttered.

Hermione reached out, took Molly's hand and brought it to her face.

"Oh yes, Molly. Thank you. I feel… I don't feel as if I'm dying anymore. The nausea is still there but under control. Thank you. What's in that tea? Where can I buy it?"

"Nonsense. I'll leave you enough to get you through the next month. It's mostly herbs and spices, nothing magical. My mother gave me the recipe when I got pregnant with Bill, and I can tell you, there wouldn't have been any more little Weasleys if it hadn't been for this tea. Arthur took me to St Mungo's but they just tried their healing magic, pick me up potions and positive spells. No use whatsoever. When it comes to this, pregnancy hormones, there is no magic in the world that works. But this does. Now, your nausea is quelled for the moment, but you need some energy. Can you bring some honey, Sirius? And toast."

While he normally objected to being told what to do, especially by know-it-all Molly, he didn't mind the least being bossed around, and ran down to the kitchen to prepare something edible.

_ Yes, thank you, Molly. I realize Hermione and I can't live in this bubble forever, just the two of us. We do need other people. Other people might even need us._

* * *

The flowery scent of Molly's tea filled the house. It was a lifeline, and it smelled 'sane' whereas the lack of it opened the gates to hell. Sirius spent the rest of the day making sure Hermione ate something, kept sipping the tea, and then watched her falling into a peaceful slumber.

_ What if the tea wears off during the night?_

He left her for a couple of minutes to prepare a thermos, and then lay down next to her, sleeping very lightly.

When morning came he woke up in an empty bed, but Hermione stood by the window, sipping tea from a keep-cup.

"Morning," he rasped. "How are…"

"I'm fine. This," she raised the cup "is a miracle."

Sirius didn't see Hermione without that keep-cup for the next two days, and even though she was tired and rather choosy about food, it seemed to work. On Saturday afternoon she started to get fidgety, and he could sense something was bothering her. While cooking he watched her, out of the corner of his eye, doodling on a piece of parchment and tapping her feet. He put the lasagne in the oven and sat down opposite her.

"What are you thinking about, love?"

She looked at him, uneasy, spinning the cup, taking a sip, before she spoke.

"It's about Hogwarts. I've planned to go on Monday."

Sirius closed his eyes. In the midst of her violent pregnancy sickness, he had stopped thinking about her leaving. If he was honest with himself, he'd done so with gratitude, and them immediately felt horrid for doing so; having Hermione home but sick, rather than away and well. He took her hand that didn't hold the cup and drew it to his lips.

"You know I hate to see you go, but that apart, do you really think you should? Are you really up to it? You are all right now, but still tired. I'm sure Minerva would understand."

Hermione's eyes glazed over and Sirius swore silently. But she pulled herself together and continued.

"Yes, of course she would, but it's not just about Minerva. It's about me wanting to show her, and Horace and the students that I can do this. I've only taught two years. I need to prove to myself and all others that I'm good enough, that I can bring the third years through, before they begin Potions with Horace next year."

"Of course you can. No one would ever question your teaching skills, honey, but right now? Is it the best time to prove yourself?"

"No, now is not the best time, but now is the time when I have the opportunity to do it at all. And I would put Minerva in a lot of trouble to call in sick this late. And I'm not sure Horace would be up to taking all the classes. He's old, you know, I worry about him. Minerva's plan is that I gradually take more of his classes, and he can go back to retirement."

Sirius thought about his old Potion teacher, Horace Slughorn. They hadn't got on too well. Slughorn being the head of Slytherin House in Sirius' Hogwarts days, and always looked at the unlikely Black in Gryffindor with a mix of disappointment and pity. Slughorn was a trophy collector, always keen to keep in touch with old students who had become famous in a variety of fields. He had never tried to keep in touch with Sirius. People said that the old teacher had changed after Dumbledore had convinced him to come back to teaching six years ago. Another rumour Sirius had heard was that Minerva had put her foot down at the beginning of the Battle of Hogwarts and demanded Slughorn at last should choose side and not tiptoeing around somewhere between the two fighting sides. Slughorn had done so, and fought alongside the other teachers, and also tried to make Slytherin House a bit more like the other three houses after the war.

"Well, I worry about you, love. I don't think you should go at all. Stay here and see if those pregnancy hormones might be a little easier on you in a couple of weeks. If you feel better, if you don't fall asleep twice a day and can eat other things than toast, apples, almonds and pasta, which is what your diet is now, then you can go."

Hermione withdrew her hand from his grip and shot daggers at him.

"Stay here? Then I can go? Are you telling me what to do, Sirius? Are taking my decisions for me? Are you forbidding me to go?"

He suddenly got very angry at her feminist indignation and the hormones that chose to misinterpret everything. She got it all wrong.

"No, I…"

"Because it sounds like that to me. I'm not your possession, not your pet for you to order around. I have a job, a career of which I'm proud, and maybe that is hard for you to grasp."

"Oh, shut up!" he hissed, fighting the urge to roar. "Do not go down that alley where I'm useless and fed with a silver spoon and never had to do a thing in my life. It's not about that. I've actually thought about how you easily can keep working after we've had the baby, and I'll be only too happy to be a stay at home dad, which wouldn't be possible without that silver spoon. But first of all I want that baby to be born! And you to be well. Four days ago you were so ill I couldn't even talk to you. You didn't respond at all. I was terrified I'd loose you. You were too ill to notice, but I was there! I saw you slipping away from me, and I'm worried about you going away and proving yourself too hard."

His anger had melted away with his inner pictures of her lying absolutely still, white as parchment and hardly breathing in her bed, and been replaced with a lump in his throat. Hermione was still angry though.

"Women are pregnant all over the world, Sirius," he snapped coldly. "You heard Molly, she has had seven children, and I can't really see how she could lay in bed being fed and pampered for nine months."

"I don't give a shit about Molly," he snarled back, "but if you are determined to go away and risk both yourself and the baby, just go ahead. You are welcome back at any time."

"Good! I will!"

Hermione slammed the door after her and Sirius briefly wondered what she had meant. Will go away? Or will come back? His anger made it impossible to decide.

_ Hungarian Horntail with a toothache? Yeah, to put it mildly. She's too bloody caring for her own good. Horace can teach all the classes, he's just lazy. Should I tell Minerva? Hermione would probably try to kill me. Oh, fuck!_

The door burst open and Hermione strode in, snatching her keep-cup and left again. The few seconds she was in the kitchen he could see that her face had the pale and haunted expression of increasing nausea, and again his anger slipped away, and his heart ached for her.


	31. Going or Staying?

The lasagne stood cold and forgotten on the worktop. Sirius brewed another pot of tea, sensing his dragon of a wife would be in need of a refill by now.

The room to Hermione's room was closed. He listened attentively, but heard nothing.

_ In a way I hope you are asleep, even though we need to talk. Even if you rip my head off._

Hermione sat on the bed, surrounded by neatly folded piles of clothes, books and personal belongings. She didn't look up when he opened the door, but stubbornly kept her eyes glued to a photo in her hands. Her keep-cup lay on its side, obviously empty, and Sirius refilled it and handed it to her. She took it and looked at him, expressionless.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She drank and her cheeks pinked a shade. He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, but he could see rims of tears wetting her eyelashes.

_ Am I enough of a bastard to take advantage of your tears, love? Hell, yes._

"Who is going to brew and serve you this miracle tea when you go? And who is going to teach when you fall asleep as soon as you sit down in a reasonably comfortable chair? Can't you see that I only want what is best for you?"

Hermione sniffed and dried her eyes.

"Yes," she mumbled.

"What was that? Come again? I might have misheard," he riled, wanting a conversation rather than a waterfall.

"Yes, I do," she whispered. "But can you see how I want this?" She gave him the photo. It was taken a few months earlier, at graduation day at Hogwarts. Hermione stood with a group of young wizards and witches, about eight years old. She beamed at the camera, while most of the children beamed at her. It was easy to see that they all adored their young Potion professor.

"It was taken the day before we got married. It could just as well have been in another life. I spent the entire day not wanting to leave Hogwarts, trying not to think about you and what I expected to be the most uncomfortable summer, with me trying not to get in your way and hoping you wouldn't notice me at all."

"Oh, I've seen you around now and again," Sirius said lightly, sat opposite her and took her feet in his lap. She smiled at his understatement.

"But I still can't let go of this ambition I had at the end of term, that I would come back to my young students, teach them how to brew simple potions and how to collect ingredients. I realize that I won't be able to see them though the whole year, and maybe not even this term, but I need to see them at the beginning of the new academic year. I really, really need to. Otherwise I won't be able to shake this mental image of myself of not wanting to be here with you. And I do. You know I do. I'll go directly to Minerva on Monday and explain how badly my pregnancy affects me, asking her to think of another solution. Maybe Horace…"

"Of course Horace will! If not, I'll do it myself."

"Lord Black teaching? I don't think so."

Sirius shifted and stretched out beside her, looking up at her.

"Don't you understand, sweetie? I'd do anything to keep you well and safe. And here with me." He grinned.

Hermione eased down and faced him closely.

"I'm beginning to see that now. But will you please let me leave on Monday morning? And don't argue more with me?"

"It's not for me to say what you can and cannot do. I'm sorry if I came off like a bully." He captured her lips with his to stop her talking. She responded softly, but they hadn't really kissed for almost a week and her warm body next to his and her soft lips against his gave him goose bumps of anticipation.

Suddenly she withdrew and frowned slightly.

"No," he whispered. "Feeling sick again?"

"No, but I'm hungry."

"You can't be as hungry as I am for you." He nuzzled her neck and prayed she would forget her empty stomach.

"I didn't get my breakfast in bed when I was ill," she whispered. "How about dinner? Here?"

Reluctantly he pulled himself from her.

"I'll be right back. There is no dessert."

"Oh, yes there is," she said and winked at him.

* * *

But Sunday evening came, after an afternoon nap that turned into lovemaking, Hermione reminded Sirius of reality. Or the under cover, pretend-reality he took part in every Sunday evening. The Cantankerous.

"No, not tonight. You are off to Hogwarts tomorrow. Not a chance in hell I'll leave you alone tonight."

"I'll be fine.

He looked down on her. She lay on her back, her hair around her face, her lips so swollen from their passion she almost looked as if she'd had them done. He leaned in and kissed her softly, feeling the temperature of her cheek rising a notch from his touch.

"I know you'll be fine, and when I said 'not alone' I didn't mean 'not by yourself in this empty house'."

"So, what did you mean?" she giggled.

He bit her earlobe carefully and traced the contour of her shell with his tongue.

_ I bet I can make you loose focus from this teasing quicker that lightning._

He nibbled across her collarbone that still was too prominent from her lack of appetite. He caressed her breasts, but when she moaned he hesitated.

"Too rough? Sorry."

"No, go on. Mmm."

"What I meant was that I won't leave you alone from making love to you for the rest of the day," he mumbled against her skin. "Or night."

She drew her fingernails down his chest and around his back.

"I like the sound of that, but this is important. You need to go, you need to make you appearance there every Sunday. That is the only time Lord Black can come out and play. And I need to finish packing."

"But you'll be gone tomorrow," he complained.

"I'll be gone for five days. I'll be back on Friday."

"Friday is light years away…" He collapsed next to her.

"I'm here now."

"Hm?"

"I said I'm here now." She bit his shoulder. "And I don't need to finish packing yet."

He hovered over her, holding her hands above her head with one hand.

"So I see. Now, where were we? Here?" He placed wet kisses along her neck and was rewarded with a sigh. "Here?" He drew his tongue over the hideous scar on the inside of her arm, and she tried to lower her arm, tugging at his grip of her hands. "No, no, no, I love all of you, scars and you present state of being too skinny, and this particular spot here." He kissed her breast. "And when your belly is large because of the baby, I'll absolutely worship that too. Right now I'll settle for this." He sucked her nipple into his month and bit. Her hands might have been tied in his grip but she drew her legs around him and made sure he was as locked to her as she to him.

How am I going to even survive without you here? he thought when he pushed into her and she shakily whispered his name with so much love he thought his heart might break.

* * *

"Well, cheers then," Hermione said and handed Sirius the vial of golden liquid. "The Cantankerous awaits Lord Black's arrival." She bowed in jest, but when she straightened up she was serious again. "And I'll wait for your return."

Sirius swallowed, kissed her quickly and apparated to the most often deserted spot on the Embankment. Slightly annoyed by the clicking of the heals of his boots, he hurried through the worn down door to the club.

_ My little Sunday displeasure. Looking for my mate Runcorn._

He shrugged and held out his hand to the wizard behind the desk. The usual black smoke rose from the cup his blood dripped into, and he was admitted into the large room. He went to the bar and impatiently called for the barman's attention. It was young Umbridge again. Sirius hauled a brown paper bag on the counter and spoke load enough for people in a two meters radius to hear.

"Now, listen. I'm sick of the fire whiskey you serve. Here are four bottles of Ogden's, and I won't have anything but that. I know all about your reasons for serving Blishen's piss, and I know about Ogden's blood status. So, even if we all agree on preferred lineage here, we can also admit that half-blood and even muggle-born products have something to offer. I remember a half-blood wizard of great stature who had half the population on their knees. He may not have been pure-blood from birth but we all agreed his teachings would make the world a better place. Now, Ogden may not have been more than a squib, but I refuse to drink anything but his brand, and there is enough for everyone who wants to join me. "

Young Umbridge paled behind the counter. No one ever made that clear, or that loud, references to the Dark Lord. Stuttering he took the bottles, uncorked one of them and poured Sirius a drink.

"Thank you," Sirius muttered and turned his back on the youth.

_ Bob seems to think I'm respected well enough by now not to apologize for my fickle pure-blood whims. They'll just think of my mother and smile. Well, let them._

Sirius saw Albert Runcorn in his usual armchair by one of the fireplaces, and was just about to head that way when someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sirius, my long lost friend. How good to see you here at last."

Sirius turned around, feeling a relaxed smile graze his features, even though he cringed inwardly at the connections his brain made when he heard that voice.

"Oh, hello Rudolphus. I've been wondering where you've been. Whiskey?"


	32. Lestrange

Rudolphus Lestrange was still a broad shouldered man. His hairline was a good inch higher that when Sirius had last seen him, but the man was without a doubt the pure-blood wizard who'd married Bellatrix twenty five years earlier. Sirius had been on their wedding, forced by his mother. Even though he'd never been particularly close to Bellatrix, not even when they were very young, he'd felt a bit sorry for her when he saw how her new husband looked at her. Like a possession, with a sadistic glint he was too young to really understand. Later he had realized that that sadistic glint had been the spark to their romance in the first place.

_ All three of us came from retrogressive backgrounds, even by pure-blood standards. I guess it's strange that I'm not a monster too._

"From your cellar? Absolutely." Lestrange took the offered glass from young Umbridge and sipped. "This takes me back."

"Hm?"

"Back to Grimmauld Place and when we were young. The parties your mother threw, and those three cousins of yours."

"Narcissa, Andromeda…"

"… and Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix." Sirius hid the foul taste from even saying her name with another mouthful of liquor.

"Why don't we sit over here?" Lestrange nodded to a group of chairs in a corner.

"Well, I thought I'd clear out Lucius Malfoy in poker…" Sirius stalled, not wanting to seem too keen on Lestrange's company. And personally he wasn't. He'd rather listen to Amycus Carrow's view on school politics, but he knew that now, now at last, he might get somewhere in his under cover work.

_ The sooner, the better…_

"Lucius isn't here tonight. Family issues."

"Really? Not to do with Narcissa, I hope?" Sirius tried a concerned look that evidently was convincing.

"No, no, not at all. That daughter-in-law. The half-blood. Draco's wife. Not really well, I've heard."

Sirius made a mental note of this. He, and the rest of the Order didn't really know what to think of Draco Malfoy anymore. He, and even his mother, had turned around during the Battle of Hogwarts. If it hadn't been for Narcissa's direct lies to Voldemort, the outcome might very well have been different. But when Narcissa, on Voldemort's order, had felt for Harry pulse after Voldemort had cursed him, she had only tried to protect her own son.

_ But if she hadn't… If the dark side had won, Bellatrix might have survived, I would have been… I would never…_

He shrugged in an I-couldn't-care-less gesture at Lestrange's words.

"All right. Let's catch up."

And they did. Sirius fed Lestrange his usual story of coming back from the Veil a true Black, mending his ways, keeping to himself, being annoyed by the new soft liberal administration, finally being more or less ordered to marry an "un-pure" witch and gone along with it to come off as a modern wizard in the eyes of Shacklebark, or whomever.

Lestrange laughed at Sirius distinct sarcasm.

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't come back at all. Not at the expense of… Bellatrix. She would given more people more joy than I'll ever be able to. I know what my wayward lifestyle as a youth did to my image. And not even able to make new pure-blood little Blacks with the Ministry's fucking New Deal. How the hell do they…"

Lestrange interrupted his brooding.

"I wouldn't say that. Talk to Albert. Albert Runcorn."

Sirius tried a bewildered look.

"Runcorn? I have spoken to Runcorn several times this summer, and yes, he mentioned something, but would that really make any difference?"

"Talk to Runcorn," Lestrange repeated. "When you are ready. He can help. He really can."

_ So, our hunch on Runcorn being part of this is correct. Oh, yes I will talk to him. But no tonight._

"What about you, then? The war has been lost for four years. What have you been doing?"

"Pretty much the same as you. Minding my own business. I was charged with a lot of nonsense at the end, but the Wizengamot couldn't prove a thing and I was released. You might remember my Cruciatus curse is rather thorough. No witnesses left, so to speak."

_ Oh, lord! He means Alice and Frank. His Crucio is like a Dementor's kiss, no one ever recovers. He could have cursed Hermione…_

"Oh, I remember. I remember that useless little elf my father had. If anyone ever doubted his uselessness, you made it pretty clear."

He heard himself laughing, and wondered if tonight was the night that the presence of Lord Black, the Lord Black Felix Felicis made him be, would finally break his sanity.

"But have you been coming here the whole time, Rudolphus?"

"Yes, as often as I can. Many friends. Many repectable wizards. I'm glad you found your way here. Tell me, that godson of yours, is he still playing the saviour of the Wizarding World?"

"Potter? Nah, not to my knowledge. We rarely see each other. He's with the Ministry of course. Auror. I think that gives him enough of being the good guy. He doesn't really agree with my way of life, my principles."

"And his little lady friend?"

_ Ah, so here we go._

"The Weasley girl, you mean?" Sirius evaded.

"No, the mudblood. The one who went with him and found all those artefacts we believed were protected. Granger."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, wondering if ignorance or knowledge would be best. His intuition, or Felix Felicis' intuition decided.

"Rudolphus. I think you know damn well that Granger is the witch the Ministry threw my way and demanded I'd make an honest women of. I don't understand your game here. An honest women out of a mudblood, a fucking joke. But, yes, she went with Potter then. She'd been going everywhere with him since they first came to Hogwarts, I think she was quite disappointed when he didn't ask her to marry him at the end. But none of them, or that oaf Weasley, would have succeeded if they hadn't had help. Dumbledore drew them a map before he died. Severus, yes Severus Snape was a double, coming to their aid more than once. They wouldn't have survived a week if not. And Pettigrew, the bloody rat. I've heard that he was the one who let them out of your dungeons when you had them there. But basically, it wasn't Potter who conquered The Dark Lord, it was Dumbledore, from beyond the grave."

Lestrange flinched at the revelation that Snape had betrayed Voldemort.

"I've had this witch at home all summer. Don't you think I would have noticed if she'd had magical abilities above the mere mediocre, by now? She's nice enough, when she's quiet."

And then it came, just as Sirius had expected, the allegations that Hermione had killed Bellatrix. He laughed.

"No, no, not a chance. She would have cowered in Bellatrix presence. Not a chance in hell that she did much harm in our side's undoing. I'm telling you, it's that bloody Dumbledore. He'd been planning ahead since the first war. To suspicious for his own good."

"But Snape killed him, didn't he?"

"Yes, Snape killed him. On Dumbledore's own orders. He had this curse, you see…"

Sirius explained how Dumbledore's curse from one of Voldemort's horcruxes had given Snape the opportunity to really gain Voldemort's trust. Lestrange was impressed. Then he changed the subject.

"You know, I petitioned for Granger. When it was just a legislative bill, before the law was passed. But then something happened, and I heard she went to you. I wonder why?"

_ She went to you. Like a bloody pawn._

"You petitioned for her? Why on earth did you do that? You've been married, you weren't included in the law. You weren't asked to marry filth just to show your loyalty to the administration."

"This rumour. That she killed Bellatrix."

Sirius laughed again, wondering how his vocal cords and lungs could coordinate the impression of a feeling that was the absolute opposite of what he really felt.

"She did not. And do you know how I know?"

Lestrange shook his head.

"She was hiding in the cellar, in the Chamber of Secrets with that young Weasley boy during the battle. On Dumbeldore's suggestion. There was something down there that they needed to fulfil his plans, to destroy part of our Dark Lord's soul. So, on a personal level, forget it. On a higher level, she might have made a difference, but I doubt it. Filch, remember him? The care-taker at Hogwarts? He said he saw the two of them go down there and not emerge again for two hours. I don't think they brought anything that made any difference, apart from some experience of fumbling teenage sex."

_ If you start bragging about your own experience of Hermione now, I will kill you, I really will. My Avada will undo your Crucio in seconds._

"This is new to me. I've always thought…" Lestrange seemed confused. "Who was it then?"

_ Fuck! Who was it? I can't tell him it was Molly. Who, who?_

"There were other doubles than Snape, Rudolphus. And curses bounced there I've heard. Some of ours accidentally killed others on our side. I think you need to let this personal vendetta go. Maybe focus on larger issues. What are we going to do with the current administration? They are bunch of sissies."

Lestrange sat in silence, lost in thought. Sirius called young Unbridge and told him to leave the bottle, rather than being too slow in refilling. Then he leaned back and waited for Lestrange's response. He looked around the room, and suddenly locked eyes with Runcorn who watched Sirius and Lestrange with an unhealthy curiosity. Runcorn looked away immediately, and Sirius wondered what that was all about.

"I'm sorry, maybe you are right. What did you say next?"

"I said what are we going to do with the current administration of sissies."

Lestrange smiled with an expression that confused Sirius as much as Runcorn's probing look."

"Don't you mean 'What are we already doing with the current administration?'"

**Yeah, what are they doing? And how is Sirius going to survive Hermione going away?**


	33. Calling a spade a spade

**Thank you so much for your reviews and PMs. I'm sorry for the slow update. Holidays and general crisis. And a new job. I do intend to finish this story, I know how it ends, and I want to share that with you. My story is rather black though, or Black. It's just my general outlook on life presently. This is therapy, pure and simple. Please continue to review and encourage me, it means the world to me.**

**Love, Kia**

Somehow Sirius managed to keep a straight face and, after a second's thought, add some genuine curiosity.

_ I can't possibly loathe anyone more than I do you, Rudolphus, but keep going._

He saw Lestrange look over his shoulder and nod confirmatively.

_ Runcorn?_

Sirius leaned forward in his chair, inwardly choking when invading Lestrange's private space.

"I knew it was a good idea coming here tonight," he said truthfully. "Tell me. I'm in. I'm all yours."

Lestrange swallowed hook, line and sinker and smiled broadly.

"That's a true Black. The thing is this, Sirius, we are working on transforming the Ministry from the inside."

_ Runcorn's department. What else? And who the fuck are 'we'?_

"Really? Transform to… what exactly?"

"Let's say to a more conservative perspective on things. A bit more old-fashioned way of running business."

_ For fuck's sake, be a bit more specific! Anyone can guess that._

"Such as? Really, Rudolphus, you're giving your old mate a heart attack here. Tell me."

"Such as pure-blood lineage, for instance. We brushed the subject before. At the prospect of an heir to your title. Runcorn's work."

"And what is that exactly?"

"Why don't we ask him over to tell us?"

Sirius nodded, showing the anticipation of an 8-year-old on Christmas morning. When Lestrange left to go over to the corner where Runcorn sat, Sirius wiped sweat from his temples and the back of his neck.

"Black. Good to see you again. Nice summer I hope?"

"Not as nice as Sunday evenings, Runcorn. How are you?"

"Just fine. What are we drinking?"

"Sirius insists on new ways here at the club," Rudolphus chuckled. "He brought Ogden's from his own cellar, and having spent time there as young I would really recommend it."

"Keep pouring, my friend." Runcorn sipped his glass and smiled the same over confident smile Lestrange had smiled before. It gave Sirius a slight feeling of vertigo.

"Sirius here is interested in your part of… let's say the future, improved Ministry."

"You merely have to ask," Runcorn said humbly. "I work, as you know, with certifying family trees of wizard families. Now, our hidden agenda, besides the boring delving into dusty registers, is to keep the pure-bloods pure."

Sirius frowned in earnest, but spoke as Lord Black.

"Well, that is commendable, but isn't it easier said than done these days? The New Deal from the Ministry more or less forbids it."

"Yes, technically, but not magically. Today for instance, I finished a job for Lucius Malfoy. His grandson is as pure as they come now. If anyone were to prick that tiny finger of his and let his precious blood drop into the goblet at the door keeper, the smoke would rise as black as yours."

"But how?"

"Today the Malfoy family tree was magically certified that baby Malfoy is the grandson of Lucius and Narcissa and the son of Draco. All pure bloods."

"But Draco's wife… The, the…"

"The half-blood, you mean?"

_ I was actually searching for 'pretty Asian-looking girl' but go on._

Sirius nodded.

"She's not in the tree at all. She is not important. Even the muggles leave blanks in their family trees, or their birth certificates. And, from the look of it, she will soon be forgotten."

_ What are you saying, your demented monster?! What is wrong with Draco's Cho? No, I can't go into that now. I can only care for myself. I can only pretend to care about Lord Black._

"Really? So, it will be as if she never existed on the family tree, and her son will have nothing of her… well…" Sirius shrugged and showed a disgusted face, as if to reveal how he felt about blood less pure than his own.

"Exactly. This is of course all hush-hush."

"Of course," Sirius answered more dryly than he intended.

"Only certain families are interested. Others have, in you own words, lost their way. But I take it you would be interested."

"Certainly," Sirius lied to Runcorn. "I don't know when, but if or when the day comes, I and my family tree are all yours."

"So the pretty little mudblood isn't expecting?" Lestrange asked with an unsuitable curiosity.

"Not that I know of," Sirius continued lying. "We don't really talk. She's leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow."

"But you'd like an heir, right?"

"Course I do."

"Then keep at it, and I'll make them as Black as yourself once they are born."

_ That would be when hell freezes over, Runcorn._

Sirius filled his glass. His hand was surprisingly steady. He sipped the fire whiskey politely even though he'd rather down it as a shot.

"So that's your business, Runcorn. Good to know, and, as I said, commendable. What else? Is there more, Rudolphus?" The Christmas morning look would have to do.

Lestrange smiled and, again, the room tilted for Sirius.

"Yes, my friend, there is more. Have you heard about the day care facilities provided by the Ministry?"

Sirius nodded.

"Children go to school when they are eleven. Hogwarts or wherever. We think it's a little late. At that age they have become rather influenced by their parents, and if their parents are of the liberal, New Deal-kind it's rather challenging to change their minds to a more conservative mind-set," Lestrange said.

"But with proper care in the hands of professional teachers from an early age, we hope they will grow up with an alternative way of seeing things," Runcorn continued.

"Things?" Sirius asked a bit irritated.

_Let's call a spade a spade. What are you lunatics doing with the young generation?_

"Knowledge that there is a difference between people and people."

"Between pure-bloods and mudbloods, you mean," Sirius asked in his superior Lord Black voice.

"Exactly. I told you he would catch on quickly, Runcorn."

"Interesting," Sirius mused. "But how do you plan to keep them apart?"

"Oh, there will be ways. And half-bloods and mudbloods are not useless. Consider your own situation. Without this mudblood in your bed, you wouldn't be able to continue the Black bloodline. We'll need them too, if we are to build a new pure Britain. In the years to come we might very well need you, and your seat in the Wizengamot to make things happen. Your vote would be valuable."

"You merely have to ask," Sirius mimicked Runcorn from earlier.

_It can't come to that. They are mad. And dangerous. And the day care for children is bloody clever from their point of view. Who are 'we' that they keep referring to?_

"We'll be grateful for your support, Black," Runcorn smiled.

"Who are 'we'?" Sirius asked with as much authority he could muster.

Lestrange evaded the question.

"Let's say people who haven't forgotten the old ways."

_More or less everyone in this room, you mean?_

"Brilliant. I just wonder about one person in particular. That horsy woman Bendel at the Social Welfare Department. She seems off to me."

Lestrange just laughed.

"She's ours. She just doesn't know it."

_Fuck._

"Lovely," Lord Black smiled.

"She's actually the key to all of our plans. She and her co-workers," Lestrange said.

Runcorn gave Lestange a quick, warning look that Sirius would have missed if he'd blinked.

_So, Runcorn trusts me less than Rudolphus. Let's keep that in mind. Is he also superior to Rudolphus in other ways?_

Soon after, Lestrange bid them good night and left. Sirius feared his sanity would be at risk if he spent more time with Runcorn and did the same.

* * *

Again, it was much later than he'd planned when he apparated into Grimmauld Place. On his way to the bathroom, he saw Hermione's trunk in the hall, and his heart grew even heavier. He undressed and showered before he went upstairs. His head was spinning from information overload. He considered drinking to make it spin in another direction, but his soon-to-leave wife held a stronger attraction.

_I hope you are asleep. I can't tell you all the things I've learned tonight. I can't see you in the light of how they talked about muggleborns._

Hermione was asleep. She lay on top of the covers, curled up on her side. She wore a lacy, cream coloured nightie that wouldn't warm the smallest bird, and she looked cold.

_Is this pretty, inadequate nightie for me? Lovely little minx. Please don't wake up._

Carefully he picked her up and tucked her in before sliding in beside her. Her skin was ice cold, and she woke up in his warm embrace.

"I'm sorry I'm late. You shouldn't have waited up. Go back to sleep."

"I tried to wait up. Obviously I failed. Merlin, I'm cold."

"I'm warm. Come closer."

Hermione cuddled closer, drew her leg over his hip and kissed his Adam's apple. Sirius didn't react. She put a little more passion behind her kisses, and he took her face between his hands.

"Hermione, don't. I can't. I feel too sick from this evening. Let me just lie here and hold you while you sleep. You look and feel lovely in your silky whatever it's called, but I just can't tonight."

She sat up, watching him with scared eyes.

"That bad? Tell me."

He pulled her down again, against his chest.

"No. Not tonight. I'm too tired. It wasn't worse than other nights, but it just… I don't know, drained me. Please, just fall asleep right here and I'll be all right tomorrow. I promise," he lied.

She complied, held him hard for about a minute before Sirius felt her drifting back to sleep. He sent his first grateful thought to the pregnancy hormones that made his beautiful little wife so tired. With as much empathy as Hermione had, she would have sacrificed her own sleep to be with him after his evening in hell. Her stubbornness would also have coaxed him to tell her everything.

_How can I ever tell you?_

* * *

_All his chums from the Cantankerous were seated in comfortable armchairs around him. Albert Runcorn, Rudolphus Lestrange, his brother Rabastan, Lucius Malfoy, Amycus Carrow, the caretaker at the door, and, in the midst of people facing him was Lord Black himself. Sirius cringed at the look of his Sunday-evening-self. He looked like Pollux Black, but with his father's grim expression of nothing being good enough for him. And they all spoke to him. "when you've had enough…" "a toast to my grandson…" "It was nothing like the Hogwarts I attended thirty years ago. No respect. No compliance. No order…" "All pure bloods…" "We might need your seat in the Wizengamot…" Here Kingsley Shacklbolt joined in but spoke in Tonks' voice: "He wants you to take your seat in the Wizengamot…" Finally Lord Black spoke: "Commendable… It will be as if she never existed…"_

_ He couldn't get away, the chairs stood to tightly. And he was more or less paralysed by what the others said._

_ Mother would like this, she would finally give her approval of something he did. He would take the seat in the Wizengamot, he would vote pro pure blood, he would erase those other people out of existence, all those interesting, attractive, creative people he'd grown up wanting to know, but been forbidden to have anything to do with before he went to Hogwarts and had been allowed to act according to his heart, rather than according to his mother._

_ Now his brother Regulus was among the comfortably seated wizards. Regulus leaned forward, invading his private space as he himself had done earlier with Rudolphus, but not flinching. His brother was closer than he'd ever been in life, inappropriately close. As close as Sirius only wanted Hermione, or maybe Remus or Harry on a drinking binge. And he spoke in a voice Sirius had forgotten._

_ "Please, Sirius, please…."_

_ Please what? What do you want me to do?_

_ "Your vote, Black? Can we count on it?" Albert Runcorn and Lucius Malfoy asked in unison._

_ Lord Black opposite him boomed: "Of course my friends, of course. Nothing would bring be greater pleasure. I'm so honoured to be asked."_

_ Then they turned to him, all of them turned to him, looking at him expectantly, and he heard himself agreeing._

_ "Of course. You'll have my vote, my support, my money, my family tree, my wife, my baby, anything…"_

_ From nowhere the black smoke of trusting your face down a pensive erased the scene, and Sirius was relieved but heavy-hearted from his promises of giving them everything._

_ The Dementors were there. A whole crowd of them and they were hungry. He couldn't understand how his tiny, soiled and treacherous soul could even begin to satisfy their hunger, but he'd never felt it easier to comply. His soul was shrunken into a rag, and was in no way connected to him anymore. The tiniest hiccup from any of the masked creatures would disentangle it from wherever it was inside him and leave him as incapacitated as if Rudolphus Lestrange had practiced his Crucio curse. An empty shell._

_ Oh, I'd rather be that than go along with Albert Runcorn and company. I'd rather die._

_ One of the Dementors, the one closest to him let out his breath in a hissing voice, preparing for his hungry kiss._

_ Yes, please, do it, take me. I'm in. I'm all yours._

* * *

Sirius woke up from his own muffled scream, bathing in sweat. It took a few second for him to find his bearings. He realized it had been a nightmare, and that Hermione slept next to him. He tried to stifle his breathing, which came in ragged gasps.

He ached all over, he felt nausea from his toes to his head, he couldn't focus in the dusky light of dawn, and the proportions of the room was strangely distorted. Trying to wipe sweat from his face, his hands slid on his wet skin.

_ Oh, that was a bad one. A potion. Regulus potion. Where is it?_

He stumbled to the adjacent bathroom and opened the silver box in his bathroom cabinet. Only three left. Without further thought he downed on of the light blue vials. Leaning on his hands against the basin he counted the fifteen seconds he knew was needed. When the time was up he shakily sank to the floor, biting his knuckles not to start crying.

_ I can't. I have to. I don't want to. I don't have a choice. I want to get out. I'm in too deep. I want to escape. I can't leave Hermione. I want to be alone. Hermione is pregnant._

He turned on the shower and let the water calm him further. He refused to think about "it will be as if she never existed." A few hours before he'd promised himself he'd leave that thought until Hermione had left, he couldn't deal with it before, not even academically. His sleeping mind had told him otherwise. His brother's potion took the edge of his mind, sleeping or awake. He wouldn't sleep more. He'd lie awake listening to Hermione's even, deep breathing, prepare breakfast in a couple of hours and see her off. Then he would face his demons, his hell, his fears and, he admitted shamefully, his curiosity.

**Will Sirius be able to keep it together? How much worse can it get? Please tell me before I get all of you lovely readers depressed.**

**Love, Kia**


	34. Hard communication

**Dear all, I'm sorry for infrequent updates. Hopefully I will now mend my ways. Thank you for your reviews, follows, favorites. They are all a real kick for me. **

**Love, Kia**

It was not a pleasant, chatty breakfast. Hermione was tired and pale, nibbling a dry piece of toast in an attempt to hide her nausea. Sirius couldn't think of anything to say. Only words of her imminent leave came to mind, and for both their sake's he kept quiet.

Her eyes sought his though, willing him to say something, guilt darkening them.

_I don't want you to leave, and I can't think of a way to make this easier for you. I would if I could, but it's not just what I want, it's that I worry about you. How can I assure you everything will be fine when I, unregardless of me wanting you here, have a feeling it will be hell on earth for you when you will try to live up to your own professional demands on yourself? How can I…? Wait!_

"Kreacher!" he called in the silent kitchen, and in an instant the old elf stood in front of him.

"Yes, Master Black?"

"Good to see you Kreacher. Do you like staying at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Master Black. Since Hogwarts is where you want Kreacher to be, that is where Kreacher is. And Kreacher likes the other elves."

"Now, listen. I will give you a special misson. A mission only you can do," Sirius flattered the old elf, "and that is to see to Mrs Black. She will come to Hogwarts today as a member of staff, and she will be your special responsibility. She needs tea, she will give you some to brew, and she needs to be as comfortable as possible." Sirius thought about Hermione's barren, sparsely equipped rooms at Hogwarts. "A fire in her private fire place, a comfortable chair, whatever you can think of to make her comfortable. We do care about Mrs Black, don't we Kreacher?"

The elf bowed.

"We do Master Black. Kreacher was wrong before, but Kreacher is a changed elf now." With bony fingers he gripped the old medallion around his thin chest, Regulus' 'testament' to the servant of the house of Black.

"I know, Kreacher, and I value you more than any previous Black. Now, off you go and make sure Mrs Black's rooms are tidied and warm when she arrives. And make sure she returns here as soon as classes end on Friday. She mustn't start marking papers or plan lessons, but come right home, and you are allowed to remind her of that. In a polite but convincing manner," he added as an afterthought.

The elf was gone with a crack.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

Sirius stood and rounded the table to come close to her. He bent down and kissed her on the top of her head, lightly stroking her hair.

"Anything, love. But you will…"

"Yes. Talk to Minerva. And Horace. Today. But still try to start the courses with the younger students this week."

"I know. And I admire your determination. If I were suffering from nausea and fatigue like you, I would lie in bed ordering Kreacher around in perfect imitation of Lord Black."

Hermione pulled him down in the chair next to hers and faced him.

"No, you wouldn't," she said with a smile.

"I wouldn't?" he chuckled.

"No, because I would be on your beck and call before you even had to ask, let alone order. Just like you've been to me. In house arrest with a monster."

Sirius cupped her cheek.

"But who would want to leave the house with such a beautiful monster?"

The clock in the hall chimed 10 o'clock.

"I need to go soon."

"Hush. Not yet. Just one more minute."

He watched her adoringly, committing every feature to memory, suppressing the lump in his throat, the growing panic in his chest. She seemed to notice and leaned in and kissed him, more passionately than the controlled good bye-kiss Sirius had in mind, but, as always, his willpower ran out the back door when she got close enough. He tasted every corner of her mouth, buried his fingers in her strictly pinned hair that came down in ringlets over his hand. Roughly he pulled her onto his lap, inhaled her scent and prepared to clear the table to have her naked and wiggling in seconds. Then she rose from his lap and held him back in his chair.

"I need to go now," she said a little shakily.

He growled, shrugged off her hands and stood too. He pulled her flush to him and muttered almost angrily in her ear.

"Are you insane? You can't leave me like this." He pressed himself against her so she would take his literal meaning. She whimpered quietly, but took a step back.

"I rather leave you annoyed and unsatisfied than teary and sad."

He closed the step she had created between them, embraced her and sighed.

"You are clever. And cruel. And I will miss you."

"I will miss you too. Now, step back or I will bring parts of you with me."

Reluctantly he did what she asked, but still wasn't prepared to see her vanish into thin air.

"I love you," he said in the quiet, empty kitchen.

* * *

Sirius had another cup of hot tea. Then he had a tepid one, and finally a cup of cold, incredibly bitter tea. He had noticed several chimes from the old clock, but not bothered to count.

_ I should talk to Kingsley. Remus. The Order. Runcorn's magical genealogy can't go on. And the Bendel woman. Who is controlling her?_

He scratched his unshaven cheek and shivered when he realised how cold he was, only in a pair of pyjama bottoms. The thought of going upstairs to get dressed was not appealing, as long as he didn't he couldn't floo over to the Ministry. A certain sense of decorum was to be expected from the bastard Lord Black, and even if Sirius would love to humiliate the man he personified on Sundays and who haunted him in his nightmares, he resisted.

_ I'm thinking about making a fool out of Lord Black. I hate Lord Black. I am Lord Black. No, I'm Sirius. Sirius would like to make a fool out of Lord Black, but who would get it? Sirius looks exactly like Lord Black. Especially undressed. Am I seriously going mad? Siriusly?_

He leaned forward and let his forehead hit the table.

_ Would it be a good idea to keep banging my head here? Probably not. Hm, green flashes? Someone here to Avada me? Lovely, be my guest._

"What are you doing?" someone said.

"Just go ahead," Sirius muttered without bothering to lift his head.

"With what? Staring at a half-dressed, more than half-mad, self-pitying grass widower who seems more short-sighted than his age would suggest?"

"Remus. Hello." Sirius tilted his head so his cheek rested on the table and watched his friend at a ninety-degree tilt his position created.

"OK, Padfoot, that's enough brooding. Get up, snap out of whatever and go get dressed. I'll see you in the library in five minutes."

Sirius didn't move.

"Now!" Remus eyes gleamed wolfishly amber, in contradiction to the concern he tried to hide, and Sirius scrambled to his feet and headed towards the door.

* * *

"You WILL survive five days," Remus said a little while later when Sirius returned down.

"Of course I will. I just don't want to do anything."

"Well, you might have to. Minister Bendel has turned around regarding the marriages today."

That made Sirius snap out of his self-evoked mental fog.

"WHAT!?"

"Calm down. It won't hurt your marriage, nor break it up. But today, she showed some true colours. Under the most hush-hush discussions, the Wizengamot has passed a kind of decree that the pure-blood partner in the newly registered marriages is to have a certain control of his or her half-blood or muggleborn partner's right to practice magic."

"You're joking," Sirius whispered, mouth agape.

"To bring you out of your depression? No, I'm afraid not."

"Shit. And they didn't even need Lord Black. Didn't even suggest it," Sirius muttered.

"What was that? What are you talking about?" Remus asked, a little concerned about his friend's mental health.

Quickly Sirius summarised the previous night's progress at the Cantankerous, Runcorn's passion in his otherwise boring job, the blood status of baby Malfoy and Lestrange's question about the Black seat in the Wizengamot.

"You need to tell Kingsley," Remus concluded.

Sirius looked at him without actually seeing him.

"No," he said slowly. "You do. I need to see someone else." He rose and went to the nearest painting, unhooking it and throwing it carelessly on the couch. Then he continued to the next frame, a hideous, night-marish landscape with Dementor-shaped shadows looming over a depressing view. It came off the wall with a shrill squeak, and landed on top of the fist one.

"What are you doing? Re-decorating?" Remus asked, more convinced than ever that the madness inside Sirius had finally and irrevocably reached the surface.

"Preparing for a chat. Off you go and sum up the Order, or whatever. I've told you everything that happened yesterday. But you can't bring the Order here today. I'll floo you later."

Remus shook his greying head and left the room. Sirius heard him call out "British Ministry of Magic" and he was alone again. While stripping the walls of dusty, gilded frames, some with their motives protesting, others empty and silent, he pondered how to contact Pollux. He was reluctant to leave the house, by apparition or Floo network. Leaning over his desk he scribbled a note to Andromeda, called his owl from the garden and sent him off to his cousin's house. A sudden longing after Hermione came over him, and he sat down, pulling out another piece of parchment.

_ I miss you. I couldn't leave the kitchen on my own accord after you left. I think I planned on sitting there until you come back. I miss you. I miss you._

He tore up the note, sighed and rubbed his face.

_ I miss you. I hope you are well and that meeting the new and old students will be what you hoped for. I'll prepare dinner on Friday. Love you, love you, love you._

_ S_

_ xxxxx_

Hesitantly he blew on the wet ink. Yes, it would do. He reached for yet another piece of parchment and dipped his quill in the brown ink.

_ Dear Minerva,_

_ I hope Hermione has talked to you by now. She really isn't up for teaching right now. Please be considerate and don't upset her overly empathic emotions. She'll work herself to death just to prove herself. Surely you can find another solution, and I'm happy to help economically if you need to overpay someone to help you out with the teaching shortage._

_ Best_

_ Sirius_

A tap on the window told him his owl was back. He let it in, tied the note to McGonagall to its leg and sent it off again.

The next painting proved more difficult to get off the wall.

_ Oh, shit, not another one of mother's impossible sticking charms! I'll take down the whole wall, if I have to._

But years of infrequent tries to remove his mother's portraits had made him into Britain's arguably leading wizard on undoing different kinds of fastening, sticking, gluing, nailing charms, and an ancient spell used to carve out reasonably large rune stones had the portrait of Sirius Black I come off the wall with a deafening roar. Without looking twice at it, Sirius threw it on the growing heap in the other side of the room.

An owl from Andromeda interrupted his work.

_ Dear Sirius,_

_ Pollux says he'll come round at six on the condition that the library is empty of all other portraits. Or you can come here if you like, I haven't seen you in a while and if you get lonely you are always welcome._

_ Love,_

_ Andromeda_

An hour later Sirius levitated the uneven heap of antique, and possibly valuable, paintings out of the library. He let them fall into an untidy heap in the hall, while unlocking the spare room Hermione and Ginny had shared all those years ago. Now it was a storeroom for the Black heritage Sirius couldn't live with. He had tried to burn a lot of it a couple of years ago, but the protective curses in some of the old artefacts had made that a one-time-occasion. Carelessly he shoved the paintings inside. He looked around the room. The shutters were closed outside the window, so it was rather dark, but he could still make out the contours of the two narrow beds.

_ You slept here, almost ten years ago. Were you happy then? I wasn't. I was miserable, brooding or arguing with everyone. You were so young, and in the beginning of a war. But did you feel safe here? Could I, or any of the other Order members give you some kind of support or comfort, or was Harry and Ron the only two you trusted?_

He closed the door and went to receive yet another owl post.

_ Dear Sirius,_

_ I've just spoken to Hermione, and let me first congratulate both of you. She seems very happy, but, of course, discouraged she hasn't got the energy to teach. We have agreed that she returns home on Friday for a month, and decide after that. I have a short-term solution, but it might very well work out for the whole academic year._

_ Best_

_ Minerva_

Sirius let out a deep breath, and suddenly felt full of energy. He needed to get the ball concerning the whole, bloody, hidden agenda at the Ministry rolling, and he wanted to do as much as possible before the end of the week. He stuck his head in the fireplace and floo called Remus in his office.

"Kingsley has Bob McGonagall checking Ms Bendel discretely. He might pick up a lead to whose magic she's been, or is, in contact with. Kingsley has also sent Runcorn on a wild goose chase, ordering him to draw the Shacklebolt family tree with all its Jamaican roots."

Sirius chuckled.

"I'll remember to compliment him on his tan when I see him on Sunday. Pollux is coming over here this evening. If something similar has been done before, I'm sure he's the one to give us the proper history lesson."

* * *

At six o'clock Sirius pulled nails from the empty walls of his library. He'd immediately decided he liked it better without the old paintings. Now and again he glanced at the empty frame behind his desk.

_ I'll go to Andromeda if I have to, but can't you let me feel I'm in charge, Pollux? Just a tiny bit? Does time move slower in the universe of oil paint?_

He sat in his chair and faced the painting, but had to crane his neck too much. He also felt he didn't like the prospect of being talked down to by Pollux, should the old conspiracy maniac appear. He cleared the desk and sat on it, feet on the old leather chair.

_ I'm really not careful at all with any of my heritage. Is this silent revolt the best I can do? Why not tear down the house and move to Godric's Hollow?_

Something had changed in the painting. A door in the background seemed brighter than before, and before Sirius' eyes it opened and Pollux peeked into the painted room of his portrait, and then beyond to the library where Sirius sat waiting.

"Is the coast clear?" came a whisper.

Sirius motioned for his ancestor to come forward.

"Yes, the coast is as clear as it gets around here."

Pollux came up to the frame and peeked around the room.

"Such a long time I was here," he said. "It seems emptier."

"Well, all the art is locked up because of you coming. And it will stay that way."

"Good. But all the knick-knacks, tiny tables, candle holders."

"In the same locked room. Been there for years. This is my home, not a monument of my demented mother."

Pollux beamed and took his chair.

"I've missed this painting. This chair is more comfortable than the one in Andromeda's house. I think I'll spend more time here from now on."

"You're welcome. Now, I've asked you here to tell you about the latest developments at the Cantankerous, and ask if you might shed some light on what is going on. Any historical parallel?"

Pollux nodded and Sirius told him, in as much detail he could remember about the evening he had spent with Runcorn and Lestrange. Pollux listened attentively before he spoke.

"Rudolphus, or any other Lestrange, isn't clever, or cunning enough to be behind this. He is not the one controlling the minister. Runcorn sounds sharp and dedicated enough, but it doesn't make sense that he would spend his time in the cellar, forging family trees. Bob might pick up something. Tell him, or I will, to search for the darkest magic. A simple Imperio curse is too easy to spot, he should look for blood magic, horcruxes, the darker hexes. In my days there was a crossover between the Imperio and the Crucio curses. The Crucio was hibernating until the subject of the curse tried to follow his own mind. If the subject's wishes and intentions went against the curse caster, the pain was almost deadly. The subject learned to 'listen' for what the curse caster wanted, never able to follow his own mind. Almost impossible to detect. I think all information on that curse is lost, destroyed by a liberal, but short-lived, Minister for Magic, but you can't be sure."

"Is there a counter curse?" Sirius asked, appalled.

Pollux seemed almost uninterested, waving his hand dismissively.

"Yes, yes, in the very room you're in, but let me tell you about Runcorn's business first."

Sirius fought the urge to demand his grandfather to tell him, but he had a hunch Pollux was as easily offended as any other Black, and kept quiet.

"It sounds as if the Magic Genealogy department has somehow got their hands on and old frame-up, a conspiracy, from the 18th century. All to do with pure-bloods, of course."

Pollux went quiet, looked down and frowned in thought. Sirius almost stopped breathing. When Pollux looked up again, Sirius went cold. The expression in Pollux' eyes was of pure pity and sadness.

"You've told me, Sirius, that the pure-blood population in Britain seems too inbred to have magical children. Those are crude words, but very true. And it has happened before. In 1758, or around that time, the situation was the same. Back then, the pure-bloods were openly elitistic, and basically ran the country. No one dared to question the hierarchy; it was a typical class society."

"What happened?" Sirius asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Half-bloods and muggleborns were brought, forced to compulsory marriage into pure-blood families. The not pure-blood women had children, the not pure-blood men got the pure-blood women pregnant. The children, if they showed magic ability, were counted as pure-bloods. In magically certified family trees. Like the one Runcorn told you about, concerning the Malfoy family."

"And the half-bloods? The muggleborns?" Sirius almost whispered.

"They didn't exist. When they knowingly where excluded from the family tree they legally were married into, all records of them disappeared. Magically. And if there are no records about a person who is at the bottom of a class society, it's easy enough to make that person disappear in reality as well. Who is to miss someone whose identity doesn't exist? The pure-bloods were in charge, no one dared question their ways."

"You mean that they…"

"…died. Yes."

"But how? How could…?"

Pollux chuckled. Sirius couldn't believe the nerve of this man. His right hand itched to draw his wand and send a flame of fiendfyre at the last remaining portrait in the library.

"Sirius. You are a Black. Even if you have rejected the ways of your family, which is commendable, you know of a hundred different ways to kill someone, and I would bet most of those ways are painful. For someone like Rudolphus they would be pure pleasure."

Sirius forced himself to remain seated, quiet, collected. A numbness came over him, and he wanted nothing but silence. He wasn't that lucky.

"Sirius. Back then people in charge didn't care. The ones who cared didn't count. They do now. You have a good Minister for Magic. If it is the same conspiracy, revived after so many years, the damage will be minimal, before the authorities spot it."

"What do you mean minimal?"

"I mean, if the Ministry, someone outside the Department for Social Welfare, sees a pattern of muggleborns or half-bloods in the arranged marriages dying, or disappearing, they will take action. Young mothers or fathers in these marriages are of course most at risk. Like young Malfoy's wife."

_ Cho. Her name is Cho. Harry is half-blood and Ginny, who is pure-blood, is pregnant._

_ Hermione._

"Hermione is pregnant," he whispered.

"What was that? I didn't hear," Pollux said.

Sirius looked straight at his grandfather.

"Hermione, my muggleborn wife, is pregnant with my child. I, the last of the pure-blood Blacks, have made my sweet, beautiful, little wife pregnant with a monster who will condemn her to death," he said flatly, not really taking in his own words. Now he got the silence he'd wanted. He didn't want it anymore.

**Review, please?**


	35. Black up!

**Thank you for your support. Here is a token of my gratitude. Enjoy. Or, more correctly, wallow in angst...**

**Love, Kia**

In a small, still functioning part of his mind, he registered Pollux getting up and leaving his portrait.

_ Wait!_

Pollux didn't hear his silent order. Sirius remained in front of the empty painting, he had no idea for how long. Suddenly his grandfather was back, taking his chair and opening a book.

"Sirius," he said softly. "Son, listen. You'll help no one withdrawing like this. Even though I'm dead, I also care that the Black blood line doesn't stay undiluted."

"What can I do? Tell me what to do?" Sirius pleaded.

"I was just about to. I want you to go to the book-shelf closest to the fire place." Sirius rose automatically and shuffled in that direction. "On the second shelf from the floor, to the left, there are a series of green, leather-bound books. Those are muggle novels I bought for this particular purpose. No one in this house would look twice at them, at least not when I was alive. Take them out and touch the wood behind."

Clumsily Sirius fell to his knees and pulled out the old books. _Robinson Crusoe, The Count of Monte Christo, Oliver Twist, Northanger Abbey._ When he reached into the empty place, his hand found wood a lot sooner than he had expected.

"Emancipare," Pollux provided from his frame and Sirius repeated it. The wood disappeared under his fingers. He fumbled in the dark and found old, dry leather, several volumes.

"Bring them here. They hold all the information you need."

Somehow this didn't give Sirius hope. If the old frame-up against non pure-bloods was revived, the ones behind it weren't a few lonely madmen. A plot on this level, and put out in the open through the Social Welfare Department, was on a scale large enough to start a third war.

He resumed his place on his desk, with the dusty folder and two books on his lap.

"In the folder, there is a full account of all historical records of the conspiracy from 250 years ago, at least the only one that remains. I found it in this library, among old periodicals about fifty years ago. I was appalled and figured it would be burned if your mother found them. Or worse perhaps, like serve as inspiration like it sounds like now. I suggest you give it to Kingsley and Bob, after you've read it. The small book is my diary. This diary."

He held up an identical book.

"Let me see," Pollux mumbled, and started to browse through the pages. The book in Sirius' lap browsed itself, it seemed. "Yes, here." The browsing stopped.

"Counters," Sirius read.

"Yes, counter curses, counter hexes, counter whatever. Number three. There is the counter curse for the crossover Imperio/Crucio." Let Bob or Remus try it on Minister Bendel. I don't really think she's under that curse, but do give it a shot. She won't notice, unless she already is cursed, and then she'll be able to tell you what you want. But let's go back to the folder. There is a short account of unexplained deaths, uncared for by the authorities at the time, but accounted for by a compassionate healer at the first St Mungo's Hospital. You, or better Bob and Kingsley can compare…"

"…compare deaths once they start happening?" Sirius snarled. "And what are we supposed to do until then? Just sit and wait until Harry dies of an unheard fever, or Hermione bleeds to death when giving birth?"

Pollux met Sirius angry, accusing gaze, and slowly the pity vanished from the painted man's expression. Pollux got the cold, look-down-your-nose expression. The Black expression.

"Man up! Better still, Black up, Sirius! If you drown in this pool of self-pity and fear the men behind this hidden agenda have already won half the battle. If you do nothing they will win it all. Don't assume things will go to hell. Take advantage of being a Black. Keep delving at the club. Play a larger role in all the elitistic pure-blood contexts you are invited to. Take the bloody seat in the Wizengamot. You have the background to be really bold, a lot bolder than Lucius Malfoy or the Lestrange brothers, without fearing the Ministry sending you off to Azkaban. Pester Bob McGonagall if he seems to slow. Raise hell with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Ask discretely, or ask Molly Weasley, who isn't discreet at all, who else in these marriages are expecting."

Sirius was angry. He shot daggers at the portrait that was lecturing him, and Pollux softened.

"Ah, there. Better?"

Yes, he actually felt better. Not paralysed anymore. He'd wanted this. The day before he married Hermione he had wanted a chance to erase the last Death Eater conspiracy on earth. He'd been side-tracked in his and Hermione's small universe of bliss. A bliss further from anything he'd ever known before. To keep the bliss, to keep her, he had to find the fighting spirit he'd had before. Before he fell in love.

"I'll read this now," he said, gesturing with the folder. "On that note, Hermione has been really ill from what she thinks is pregnancy hormones. Could that have anything to do with this? If 'this' is actually happening again?"

Pollux frowned.

"I doubt it. According to the information in your hand, it was in the pure-bloods' best interests to make the pregnancies of muggleborns and half-bloods as comfortable as possible. They carried the most valuable cargo. Now read."

Sirius sank into his chair and turned his back at Pollux. Carefully he opened the leather folder and started reading. The parchments were old and brittle, and the ink faded into grey.

For a period of seven years this unnamed healer had reported deaths of young men and women who'd been forced into marriages under the Marriage Act of 1751. Only two, one muggleborn man and a half-blood woman, had died before any children had been born in their respective marriages. The others, twenty-eight…

_ Twenty-eight! That's my whole Gryffindor class at Hogwarts!_

… twenty-eight young men and women had died by less than probable causes a few months after giving birth, or having their pure-blood wives giving birth. Sometimes the after the first child, sometimes after several children. There had been an outbreak of Dragon pox in 1760, but no one forced into a pure-blood marriage had succumbed to that, even though some of their pure-blood spouses had.

_ Why had it stopped?_

The last page answered that question in a later added afterthought. In 1772, the Department of Magical Genealogy was founded, and whoever was Runcorn's forerunner had had enough 'material' to work with. New guidelines for how family trees were drawn were established, and the detail of magical certification was added.

_ And it has been going on up until now? No, no, it can't have. Since 1772 or whenever, the pure-bloods haven't seen the seen to mix with others. Not these kind of pure-bloods. But who? Who sees the need now? The need to do it this dreadful way? There are only a handful really conservative pure-blood families left in England, or maybe ten at the most. Karkaroff is Russian. Lucius Malfoy didn't know before, he wouldn't have argued at the club if he'd been behind it. The Notts? No, too law-abiding. The Rosiers? I'm fucking certain Evan Rosier is dead. I saw James kill him in 1981. Druella is alive, she's Narcissa's mother, Lucius mother-in law… No, she's too old, and she's always been a coward. And Cygnus, her husband, my uncle is dead. I was at his funeral, I was at viewing of his body. I saw him dead, mother even forced me to kiss his forehead, whew. Neither the Goyles nor the Crabbes have ever had a backbone, apart from Irma, Pollux wife, perhaps. The Carrows. No, they are up comers, otherwise they wouldn't have taught at Hogwarts. But that was during the war. The whole Ministry was more or less ruled by Voldemort. Voldemort was under the expression that Hogwarts was 'his', governed by Snape. But Carrow is an idiot! Is he just pretending? Shit, I have to woo him on Sunday, let him win a lot of gold and drink a lot of firewhiskey. Lestrange? That's the only family I can think of demented and twisted enough. They've never had morals of normal people. But Rudolphus seemed to answer to Runcorn, and Rabastan is too unstable to plan his own actions, let alone a conspiracy like this. Runcorn? But I've never heard of that family before Harry mentioned him, and only him, a couple of years ago. It must be someone I know, someone I was forced to respect while growing up. Rudolphus? Who is around Rudolphus? Rabastan, yes. If Bellatrix wasn't dead I'd put my money on the Lestranges. But there were witnesses, weren't there? Saw her crumble to dust? I wish I could have seen it. I would have danced in that dust._

Sirius piled the pieces of parchment together neatly. The first page read: _The Tragedie of Childbirths in London 1758-1763. Recorded by Anonymous who failed in her healing duties at St Mungo's Hospital. With Amendment in 1772. _

A frame of sorts was drawn around the title, in rust-coloured ink. The colour of old blood. Sirius sniffed it and relaxed. Just ink. But there, below the frame, what was that?

_ 3 cop._

Three copper knuts? Or three copies? He turned the page. At the bottom, in very faded, very small letters he could make it out again.

_ 3 cop. 1 Bla, 1 Car, 1 Les._

Black, Carrow, Lestrange?

As in a trace Sirius left the library, ignoring Pollux' voice calling him back. He entered the room with the Black Family Tree tapestry, with his wand drawn, even though he knew the room was empty, and the portraits not the talking, moving kind.

The Lestrages showed up here and there in the tapestry. Rudolphus marrying Bellatrix was not the first time the two families had united. The Black family had always had its centre in London, and he could see a Lestrange marrying a Black in the early 18th century. So, the Lestranges had been in London as well then. At the time for the pure-bloods' Operation Clean Sweep. Fuck!

_ But Rudolphus just isn't cunning enough. That leaves the Carrows. If Corrow's self-righteous moaning is just a front, it's very convincing. I fell for it, seeing him a fool. It will be a dreadful Sunday._

* * *

The days that followed were busy. Kingsley, Remus and Bob came to Grimmauld Place directly after work several days, discussing, plotting, sharing news from the outside. Sirius didn't leave the house.

"Rabastan said Karkaroff's been checking me, but staying isolated here with Hermione added up with my story of being a recluse. Who's saying they're not still checking me from time to time? You can't enter through the door anymore. Apparate into the garden or use the floo."

Minister Bendel was not under the curse Pollux had mentioned. Bob had made attempts to chat her up in the Ministry lunchroom, and even though she seemed happy for the attention, she didn't give away a thing.

"She doesn't know. Just like Rudolphus said. She hasn't a clue. She's dripping with a foggy kind of dark magic though. I can't put my finger on it."

"Ask her out on a date, and see what happens," Remus suggested.

Bob scrunched his nose up in disgust, and Kingsley meddled in the suggestion.

"If she doesn't have a clue what havoc she might have started, you shouldn't judge her, Bob. You might find a really lovely lady underneath."

"Underneath what?" Bob asked, looking terrified.

"Her silky, lacy…" Sirius began.

"The foggy dark magic you, but few others, are aware of," Kingsley interrupted, giving Sirius an irritated look.

Remus chuckled.

"Women aren't the enemy, Bob. Not in general."

Bob blushed, and Sirius could feel he wanted to transform into a cat and run away.

"OK, let's focus here," Sirius said. " Neither of us have a clue about what it is to be the nephew of Minerva. She is, of course not, the enemy, but I have never knowingly gone against her. I wouldn't dare."

Now Bob paled, but recovered and gratefully continued discussing things that didn't concern his personal life. Sirius ended their discussion with a yawn.

"But tomorrow is Friday, and I won't allow any of you here after work. Hermione is coming home and I refuse to discuss any tactics. I'm going to cook and clean and welcome her home. Now, it's past midnight, so bugger off home. I'll talk to you on Monday, after bonding with Carrow at the club. But it can't be him. He's too shallow, too daft."

"Leave it until Sunday, Sirius," Remus said, standing up. "And give my love to Hermione."

* * *

On Friday afternoon several of the rooms at Grimmauld Place were spotless. Not the ones they didn't use, of course, Sirius had his limits, but the kitchen, the bedroom and the library were cleaned and warmed. He'd even cleaned a small dining room next to the kitchen. It had rarely been used, and never by him and Hermione, who took all their meals in the kitchen. Or in bed.

But the room was rather nice, facing the garden. Sirius had laid the table with old china porcelain he'd found in a glass cabinet he never knowingly opened, or even seen before. The plates were painted with the Black crest, but small enough for him to tolerate.

_ Maybe I should use all this family stuff more. And be rather careless when I do the dishes._

He was pleased with his surprise dinner for two. Candles, napkins, silver cutlery. Beef stew simmering, salad chopped, bread from the muggle bakery, strawberries on the counter, cream whipped.

He took a quick shower and dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt. The clock chimed 5 o'clock and he couldn't think of anything else to do but hang around in the kitchen, having a glass of the wine he'd used in the stew, and wait.

_ You will apparate, won't you? You're brilliant at apparating, flooing will make you sick._

A tap on the window and a loud crack were not what he expected. Kreacher stood in front of him, wringing his hands.

"Kreacher. Why…? What…?" The tapping grew louder. "Hold on." He opened the window and one of Hogwarts' ordinary post owls held out its leg with a note.

"She wouldn't come, Master Black. Kreacher tried, tried hard, but Mrs Black refused and went away with the others."

"What others?" Sirius spluttered. "Wait. Let me read this."

He unrolled the note and read.

_ Sirius, I can't leave. Two first-years have gone missing in the Forbidden Forest, I have to help search for them. I do, after all, know more about the Forest's hiding places than any other member of staff. I'll come home as soon as we've found them._

_ H_

_ xxx_

Sirius swore. Kreacher ducked in fear.

"Master Black, Kreacher tried, tried to tell Mrs Black that you would be angry with her, and with Kreacher, but she just said it would be fine. But Kreacher remember what you said, Master Black. You said Kreacher would make sure Mrs Black came directly home after classes, and Kreacher tried. Really tried."

The elf broke into violent sobs, and Sirius didn't know whether to laugh or yell at him.

"Kreacher, calm down. I know you tried. I'm not angry with you. Or her. Can you please return and keep her company in the search for the children. If you can, help them search. You elves might have other ways of finding two scared eleven-year-olds."

Kreacher beamed at him through his tears.

"I will Master Black, I will."

"And if Mrs Black is really tired, say I want her to stay at Hogwarts tonight and sleep."

Kreacher disappeared before Sirius could make out his, probably positive, answer.

He sat down heavily.

_ Why do you have to be so compassionate, love? Leave the two rascals in the forest for a night and they'll never stray in that direction again. But you'd never do that, would you? Too caring for your own good._

He emptied his wine glass quickly. He wasn't angry, but disappointed. And a tiny bit proud of Hermione.

_ And Kreacher. Merlin, has he turned around, that elf. He deserves a reward._

He disregarded his disappointment and decided to find something for Kreacher among Regulus' old things. Then he would have dinner alone. He went into the dining room and levitated Hermione's plate, glass and cutlery to their proper places.

_ Oh, I will enjoy my meal and my self-pity. I will sit here and wallow in it, drinking too much wine._

Before he went upstairs he stirred the stew on the stove. It splashed on his white t-shirt and he swore silently. On his way to Regulus' room he threw the t-shirt in the hamper and went shirtless to the room he hadn't visited in months.

He realized it was almost a museum. He'd cleared out junk, abandoned potion experiments, tacky and tattered clothes, but otherwise kept many of his brother's things. Most of the things were Regulus', but there were a few pieces he'd kept for other sentimental reasons. Or just because he found some 'knick-knacks' aesthetically beautiful.

He reached for a small silver cup engraved with Regulus' name and date of birth. He would give it to Kreacher. Sirius knew he had Kreacher's respect, but he would never have his love. Kreacher had respected old Mrs Black, and he respected Sirius, but he had loved Regulus.

On the window-sill he saw a silver hair brush. It was a beautiful piece of silver, and he looked around for its matching mirror. They had belonged to his aunt Lucretia, and when he saw the brush he wanted nothing else than give it to Hermione, or offer her to brush her hair with it. The mirror was nowhere to be found. Vaguely he remembered he had seen it in this room, but he had no idea if it had been this year or just after the war. It bugged him. He had a two-fold reason to want to give beautiful things from his heritage to Hermione. First to make happy, but secondly because no one in his family had ever given anything remotely as valuable to a muggleborn.

_ And I've given her my name. And made her pregnant. _

Panic made his heart pound and sweat to wet his hairline.

_ No, can't think about that now. Everything will be fine. Will be…_

Something else stirred inside him. Not panic. Magic. Something buzzing. What was that? The feeling of… ward being crossed. Not forced, but crossed by someone. Someone related. Related by blood.

He pressed himself to the window, looking down on to the street. A dark-haired woman and a platinum blond man were briskly approaching the house.

_ Lucius? Narcissa? What are you doing here? Oh, yes, you are here to visit Lord Black, the fucking bastard. What was it Pollux said to me? Black up!_

**The review-button is just below. I love you, you know.**


	36. Family Reunions

**Good things come to those who wait...**

**Kia**

Sirius dove into Regulus' wardrobe and pulled out the first shirt he found. It turned out to be an old traditional white linen shirt with very wide arms, ending with lacy cuffs. He didn't bother with the matching neck-cloth or cravat he suspected should go with it. No time. On Regulus' desk, he found the signet ring his brother used to wear and pushed it onto his fifth finger of his right hand. Wetting his left ring finger, he pulled off his wedding band and put it in his pocket.

_ Oh, fuck! Here comes Lord Black. Can I be him without the Felix potion? I have to. What do they want? Shit, I've more of less invited them. Hermione isn't here. She mustn't come home tonight._

The doorbell rang its sombre tone, and Sirius rushed down the stairs. The newly cleaned hall seemed to assure him that the House of Black was ready to do its duty in a representative manner. He stopped a yard before his mother's curtained portrait.

_ Is it worth the risk? Toujours Pur, Toujours Pur, Toujours Pur… _

Hermione's smiling face came to mind and he uttered under his breath, more sincerely:

"Toujours Pur," and withdrew the curtains around his mother's portrait.

"Good evening, mother. It seems we have guests tonight." He passed her and grabbed the doorknob.

"Lucius, Narcissa! What a surprise. Oh, I'm glad you've found your way here once more. Do come in."

The Malfoys seemed somewhat overtaken by his hearty welcome.

_ Am I overdoing it? Can't think about that now. I'm alone with Black, without Felix, I just have to improvise. And Black would be happily surprised, wouldn't he?_

"Mother, dear. Narcissa and Lucius are here."

As in a dream he saw the improbable Malfoys exchanging improbable pleasantries with his mother's portrait, before they moved further into the house.

"Let me take your coats," he offered. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Yes, please," his cousin answered looking around.

As far as Sirius knew Narcissa hadn't visited the house for almost thirty years.

"Oh, look," she continued. "The family dining room. That is the loveliest room in the house, don't you think?"

_I've never even thought about using it before today, but if you say so Cissy._

His cousin went into the room he'd pictured he'd lead Hermione into earlier, Lucius following her. Sirius poured drinks and asked them to sit.

"We were just passing, and I said to Narcissa that we should make a short visit. It seems we're interrupting your dinner, perhaps we should…"

"Nonsense," Sirius said. "What are your plans for tonight?"

"Nothing really," his cousin answered. "We've been to see Rudolphus, but he made it pretty clear he wanted to be alone. We were just heading home."

"Then why don't you stay and have dinner?"

"Oh, we couldn't," Lucius protested.

"Of course, you can," Sirius (or was it the real Lord Black?) said. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have family here for dinner. I'm dining alone otherwise."

"All right, if you are sure," Lucius beamed.

Sirius magically laid the table for two more, and went into the kitchen.

"Kreacher!" he whispered.

The elf stood in front of him in an instant.

"Hush!" Sirius whispered. "Talk really low! Have they found the missing kids?"

"Yes, Master Black, they have. And Mrs Black is sleeping. She'll come home after breakfast tomorrow."

"Good. Now, you need to help me."

"Of course, Master Black."

"I have guests in the small dining room. You might have seen them many years ago. I want you to serve us dinner as gracefully as you did when my mother was alive. But here, get a pair of clean tea towels on first."

"Of course, Master Black."

"I'll just run down to the cellar and pick out some wine, then I leave the serving to you, Kreacher."

"Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Most Ancient…"

"Yes, I know. Thank you."

Sirius sincere gratitude brought tears to the old elf's eyes, and Sirius fled down the cellar stairs to spare them both the embarrassment.

* * *

Sirius raised his half emptied glass in a toast.

"To the most beautiful grandmother in the family, Narcissa."

Narcissa smiled almost sweetly and watched her husband and her cousin drink. Sirius had somehow kept the conversation running during the meal. Cold talk, gossip, politics. Now, when Kreacher had taken away the last plates, and they were left with only the glasses and wine, the distance he'd held vanished and he felt terrified of Lucius having a hidden plan for their visit.

_Yeah, of course he'd check if Lord Black is real, not only a Sunday evening-thing. What if Hermione had been home when they arrived? I guess I wouldn't have answered the door._

"Draco's son is beautiful, Sirius. Doesn't make a fuss, a real blessing," Narcissa said in that tone women had when they spoke about babies. Intimate in a way that gave Sirius shivers of something unpleasant. As if he was supposed to really care, but couldn't.

"What have they called him?" Sirius asked distractedly.

Both Narcissa and Lucius hesitated, which caught Sirius attention and suspicion.

"What?" he pressed on with a laugh. "Can't they decide?"

Lucius started to answer.

"We've decided to call the boy Phineas, after Narcissa's and your ancestor."

_Figured. Creep. Wait, why 'we have decided'? Surely Lucius and Narcissa aren't involved in the boy's name._

"Old Phineas Nigellus will be so proud. I haven't seen him around in his portrait recently, but I'll give him the news," Sirius smiled. "Is Draco happy?"

The Malfoys gave each other a quick glance before Narcissa answered.

"Yes. Draco is very happy about little Phineas. Now, I think we've intruded on your hospitality far too long. We need to head home. I'm so glad to have you back Sirius. Back in the family. Please come and visit us. We'll be in London for a few more weeks. Come on, Lucius."

In less than five minutes 12 Grimmauld Place was, once again, blissfully quiet.

_I've never seen anyone leave so quickly. What happened? Did I say something that… I was afraid they would be personal, ask me questions about my life, marriage, the Wizengamot seat perhaps, and I turned around and asked them instead. About the now pure-blood baby Malfoy. And they went all weird. Weirder than ususal._

"But you behaved all right, your Lordship," Sirius said out loud in the empty room.

_So did you, Sirius. I hardly noticed you were here._

Sirius winced at the voice in his head. The voice of his father? The voice of Lord Black? Definitely not the voice of reason.

"No. Stop. Get out."

_You invited me, Sirius. You wanted me here. You want to be me, rather than yourself. Quite understandable._

Sirius stood up quickly. His chair fell over behind him. Kreacher was at his side in seconds.

"Have Mr and Mrs Malfoy left, Master Black?"

"Yes, Kreacher. They left. Thank you for your services. Can you go back to Hogwarts and make sure Mrs Black comes here first thing tomorrow?"

"Yes, Master Black. Kreacher thinks Mr and Mrs Malfoy coming here is like the old days of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

_I taught him well, didn't I, Sirius?_

"I know you do, Kreacher. I don't think it will happen again, but we'll never know."

"The Malfoy family is always welcome in the House of Black," the elf croaked, and part of Sirius wanted to grab him by the neck and threw him across the room.

"Yes, Kreacher. Now off you go."

Sirius exhaled slowly in the sudden silence after Kreacher had disappeared.

_Didn't I?_

"You did nothing! You don't even exist. Bugger off!"

_But I'm right here. In my house. Mind your tone, young man._

Sirius raked his fingers through his hair. It WAS the voice of his father. He had resurrected his father in his impersonation of Lord Black, and tonight, disappointed, under stress, without the good luck potion his father, the image of any Lord Black, except Sirius himself, went berserk in his mind.

He slammed the door to the small dining room, went into the library and headed straight to the liquor cabinet. Trying to ban his alter ego from his mind, he poured a whiskey glass to the rim.

_Oh, going all pro mudblood with Ogden's, are we?_

"Leave. Me. Alone."

_Not a chance. This whiskey is quite nice._

* * *

He heard his name being called. He opened his eyes in the semi-darkness of the room, and the calling stopped. He had recognised the voice though, but since she obviously had been a figment of his dreams he closed his eyes again.

_Hermione._

"Sirius, where are you?"

_It IS her! Here? Where? Where am I?_

Ungracefully he felt whatever he was resting on slip away and the floor come up and catch him. Really hard.

_Ouch! Fuck! Oh, my head will explode._

He tried his voice. Pathetically hoarse and weak he tried to answer.

"Here. I think…"

The light that flooded the room when the door was opened made him fear, but not really care, that his eyesight would be permanently damaged.

"Sirius, what…"

"Shhh… Not so loud. Please."

He closed his eyes again and felt the small vibrations in the floor bringing her closer. Bringing her to him. The touch of her hands made him wide awake, and in double hangover pain.

"Why this drinking binge, Sirius? I could have come home tonight, if you'd really wanted me to."

"Oh, I did, believe me. But I'm glad you didn't. Yesterday evening was quite something, ending with me trying to drink Lord Black under the table."

He moaned against her shoulder, feeling sick at the mere thought of drinking alcohol.

"Drinking Lord Black under the table? What are you talking about?"

"I think I won," Sirius slurred, desperate to go back to sleep and avoid the pain in his head and the seasickness of the swaying room.

"I've missed you for almost a week, and when I finally get home, you are more or less drunk and totally incomprehensible. Can you please take a sober-up potion if I get you one?"

"Mhm. But don't leave. I missed you too. Please stay here and let me sleep." The room darkened and Sirius knew he'd slid into slumber if Hermione would just be quiet and sit still.

"On this dusty floor? I don't think so, darling."

Quite roughly she rose and left him. Brimming with self-pity, Sirius sat up with his back to the couch and rested his forehead against his knees. In what felt like seconds, Hermione was back, a healing scent mingled with her own.

"Drink up, love. I won't even try and talk to you before you've downed this."

Hesitantly Sirius took the proffered glass, wondering if his hangover body would tolerate anything. It did, and like all quick potions, the Felix Felicis, his brother's anxiety potion, Hermione's twisted Veritaserum, it changed everything in seconds. His mind grew focused and painless, his eyes no longer sensitive to light, nor his ears sensitive to sounds. The embarrassment of having too much to drink, and not really handling it well remained though. Sheepishly he faced Hermione, who sat on the coffee table. He looked up into her eyes, expecting some reproaching, but she was the exact copy of his minds picture of her. Concerned, slightly smiling, loving.

Roughly Sirius pulled her from the table and to his chest.

"You are here. Oh, I missed you so much." He inhaled. "You smell so good." He kissed her. "You taste so good." He let his hands roam her body, feeling her being slightly less skinny than a week earlier. "You feel so good. Sweetie, I'm sorry I was a wreck when you came. You see, yesterday was really weird. When I got your note…"

Hermione placed her fingers against his lips.

"I've missed you too. I don't want to know about yesterday right now. I want you. I'll go mad if I have to be this close to you and just listen to you."

She captured his lips with hers and took command of the situation. Straddling him on the floor in front of the couch, she slid her hands under his shirt. Sirius shivered under her touch, tilting his head back and groaned when she aggressively left a row of love bites at the side of his neck.

"What are you wearing?" she muttered under her breath. "Where are the buttons?"

Chuckling Sirius sat up and drew the wide shirt over his head. When he met her gaze again, her eyes were dark and almost transfixed.

_You are looking at me like that. How come I have the sexiest witch alive on my lap, looking at me as if I'm dessert?_

She leaned in, but Sirius stopped her.

"You are far too overdressed."

Slowly he peeled her scarf off her neck and pushed her jacket down her arms. A cloud of peachy scent invaded his mind and he just had to double the experience by slowly kissing her jaw and down her neck.

"You feel amazing. I mustn't bite you."

Slowly he grazed his fingers down her neckline, feeling her shiver at his touch, inching herself higher on his thighs, dropping her head back and surrender to whatever he wanted to do to her.

Someone had once said to him that men can't do two things at once, and for some reason he remembered that now, and disputed its truth. Despite being painfully turned on, and having his lips magnetically drawn to Hermione's skin, he skilfully unbuttoned the row of buttons in her blouse, without ripping out a single one.

"Upstairs?" he mumbled, hazily aware that he'd asked her that before, months earlier in this very room, the very first time he'd made love to her. And just like that time, she amazed him and made him crave her even more.

"No. Here. Now. The couch," she panted and went for his belt with quick and eager fingers.

They rose and ripped off their remaining clothes before tumbling down onto the couch Sirius had drunk himself into oblivion and unconsciousness the night before. Among the blur of love and lust and tenderness and fulfilled longing, he felt a bang of fairness at having Hermione naked and willing and panting for him at the same spot he'd almost lost his mind hours before. He caught glimpses of her naked body, her breasts fuller, her nipples darker, her collarbones less protruding. He held himself over her, gazing down in her flushed face, at her swollen lips, her wild hair that had been pinned up minutes before and her lust filled, black eyes.

_I want you so much. Now at once, but I want you to moan in pleasure. _

He lowered his head to her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

_And I'll be gentle. I must._

Her breath hitched, and she arched up to meet his lips and tongue.

"Harder," she whispered, and he wasn't stupid enough to question her changed wishes. "Touch me," she breathed and he let his hand wander down her stomach, pausing for just a second to evaluate whether it was fuller than a week before. He couldn't decide, and when she bucked her hips he complied her wishes with his fingers. He pushed a long finger inside her, felt her folds soaking wet and he wanted nothing else than taste her, but when he carefully bit down on her nipple her muscles contracted around his fingers. She threw her head back and hissed while he prolonged her pleasure with his fingers, watching her flushed face in awe.

She sobbed when her body shivered one last time from her rushed climax. Sirius kissed her softly on the lips.

_I can't believe I can give you so much pleasure. And I'm not done yet. You'll be a ragdoll before I'll let you out of my hands._

"Sorry," she whispered. "I just couldn't hold back. I've missed you so. I've had such dreams about you all week, waking up all wet and unsatisfied."

"Don't be sorry. You are my wet dream come true. Am I crushing you?"

"No, I'm fine. I love your weight on me. Keeps me where I want to be."

_Is it even possible to sting words together when I'm as turned on as now? Let's try, this is an opportunity too good to miss._

"Tell me," he growled in her ear, "what do you do when you wake up all wet having dreamt about me?"

Hermione blushed a charming shade of pink and shook her head.

"Well, show me then, love." His mouth was as dry as sand when he saw her pupils dilate again. "Let's say you've just woken up from a dream where I've just sucked you to an earthquake, and you wake up with only the memory of it, knowing it was only in your mind it happened." Slowly he lifted himself off her, prepared to back down from the challenge the second he saw her grow uncomfortable.

He wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing her knees to bend and spread. Hesitantly she pulled her hand down and began stroking herself, mumbling his name, and he'd thought he'd come by the mere sight of her.

"Enough," he growled, took her hand and held himself over her again. "I need you now. I can't wait."

"No, wait," she countered. "Sit up. This is what I dreamt. Like the first time. Right here."

She straddled him and wasted no time in taking him inside her.

"I dreamt of this. Of you filling me, and your hands on my hips setting the pace, and your lips on my breasts."

Without even thinking, Sirius followed the script to her dream. I was really his dream too, but looking into his beautiful wife's eyes while he trusted inside her was more than his sleeping mind could invent. His wet and painfully arousing dreams were always about how he felt, how well his mind remembered the feeling of how tight she felt around him. Awake, looking, listening and smelling her the pleasure doubled by experiencing her pleasure as well.

He pried away her fingers with his and pinched her bud of nerves.

_I can control you with my fingers. I can just…_

But he couldn't. She clenched around him and he lost control of both his own and her climax.

**I'll might write faster if you encourage me somewhat... Go all in, all flattery...**


	37. Telling

**A huge thanks to my lovely reviewers. Little rays of sunshine. Punkyredhead, AngelOnYourRight, China2009, StarGirlPotter, Kandimom and BrightestWitchOfHerAge and all you others. I'll try to be polite enough to answer, and if you are writing yourself, return the favor, but time is precious in my world. Too little of it.**

**Love, Kia **

"But have you discussed last night with anyone?" Hermione asked over the lunch-time breakfast in the kitchen.

"I've just told you, kitten. I haven't seen anyone but you since the Malfoys left," Sirius answered and poured her another cup of tea.

"Right. Sorry."

"But never mind them now. How do you feel? Molly's tea still your life-line?"

"I'm… well, not fine perhaps, but better. Most of all I'm so tired. If Kreacher hadn't been my personal little elf, I would have overslept every morning this week. I think I can sleep eighteen hour a day."

"Is that normal?"

A glimpse of the quick-tempered, hormone-induced rage made Hermione frown before she sighed deeply and looked like she was about to start crying.

_ Still moody though. Never mind, you're here._

"I don't know. My experiences of pregnancies are about as non-existent as yours. I don't feel sick all the time, only when I'm really hungry. I have been able to focus on my lessons, but mostly…"

She blushed and emptied her teacup.

"Mostly what?" Sirius asked.

"No, nothing."

"Tell me. Mostly what?"

Hermione shook her head stubbornly and changed the subject.

"Can you guess who Minerva asked to substitute for me?"

"It's not Horace?"

"No. And even if he had been willing, which I think he would, Minerva said she wanted someone younger. Perhaps someone more willing to keep up with new research in Potions. Try new things."

"You're not teaching them to brew your Veritaserum, are you?"

"Course not. But my sub-teacher might…"

"Luna?"

"Yes, Minerva asked her, and she said yes. Both she and Neville are happy, to say the least. But I have censored Luna quite a bit. Her mother did some experiments with Potions see, and one of them got her killed. I've had Luna promise me to follow the syllabus and not follow in her mother's footsteps."

"So, Luna is at Hogwarts teaching and making Neville happy, and you are here with me. Life couldn't be better. Can't we keep it this way?"

Sirius levitated the empty dishes to the sink.

"I'm home for a month. After that we'll see. But if everything works out well with Luna, she is more than willing to fill-in for me when the baby comes."

"But I have you here for a month. And according to yourself, you'd rather spend most of the time in my bed."

Sirius smiled and winked at her, and Hermione's cheeks pinked again.

"But we can't live cooped up her like we did all summer, Sirius. People will talk."

Sirius rounded the table, pulled her from her chair and left the kitchen with his arms around her. He led her through the library and out on the porch. The garden had begun to show autumn colours, and the air was chilly. Hermione sank down in one of the lounge chairs and pulled a blanket around her. Sirius eased himself beside her and held her hard.

"I don't really care about people. I can easily stay like this for the next six months." His hand found its way under the blanket to rest on Hermione's still flat stomach. "And from another perspective, everyone will gain on you just staying in my bed. The bloody idiots at the club think I'm living contently as a bachelor, and that you are away. They might of course pick up on the fact that you are on sick leave, but for that purpose you might, again, just better be in my bed, not gallivanting around London."

"I wasn't planning to, I know Mrs Black's profile needs to be low, but I was thinking about our friends. Tonks and Remus. I'd like to tell Ginny about the baby, unless her mother hasn't already. Our friends will talk, they will know I'm not teaching, and they'll wonder why. We need to start telling people, Sirius."

Sirius nuzzled her neck, inhaling her much missed scent and closed his eyes.

"But not today, right? Why don't you stay here resting, sleeping all day, while I talk to Kingsley and the Order about Lord Black's impromptu guests yesterday? See if he can get a clearer picture on the Malfoy family tree. And we'll ask Remus and Tonks over tomorrow night."

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"Sunday night. Club night for your lordship."

_ Fuck! I don't want to go there again. I don't want to be him again._

For once Sirius said exactly what he was thinking.

"I know. But you'll do it anyway. And sleeping all day sounds fine." Hermione yawned widely. "I'll be all right tonight."

Sirius stayed curled around her until she fell asleep. Part of him wanted to stay in the nippy autumn air, under the blanket, but the memory of his father's voice challenged him to get up and be the responsible Order member people expected him to be.

* * *

"You were right, Sirius," Kingsley said. "Baby Phineas Malfoy is as pure as they come, but motherless, according to the Malfoy genealogy."

"But where is his mother? Where is Cho?" asked Bill Weasly who just flooed into Remus and Tonk's cottage at the unscheduled Order meeting. The living room was crowded, but everyone agreed Grimmauld Place wasn't the best place to hold meetings in anymore when The Malfoys could pop in at any time. Harry and Ginny weren't there, but Sirius hadn't had the time to ask Molly or Arthur where they were.

"Cho is at St. Mungo's," Poppy Pomfrey informed the others. "She has been there since she gave birth. Healer Pye, who attends Frank and Alice, told me this morning. He's also in the Order, as you know. According to Pye, Cho is weak, but he can't really diagnose her with anything other than having had a difficult pregnancy and a really hard delivery. It seems as if her body doesn't respond to neither potions nor food."

_ Pollux said 'deaths among the un-pure population' and now I see them everywhere. In the picture he painted. _

Sirius inner eye saw another painting. Hermione lying as still and white as a few weeks ago when she was struck nausea, but with a newborn baby in a crib beside her own bed. The baby cooed but Hermione didn't move. The baby squealed louder and Sirius closed his eyes hard to get rid of his fears.

"Which brings us to this," he growled and slammed his hand on one of the copied folders of _The Tragedie of Childbirths in London 1758-1763. _"You've all read it by now, I hope. Pollux, the insane conspiracy freak, thought now was the time to show us this. That whatever is going on now is inspired by this… this…" Sirius couldn't find only one word that described how he felt about Pollux' story, and just drummed his fingers on top of the piled pieces of parchment.

_ Tragedy? Nightmare? Pure-bloods at their finest? Yesterday's mirror of what will happen now? _

"You know damn well that I share the same bottom-of-the-gene-pool-barrel, so maybe I can't help freaking out here when I think of the endless possibilities my fellow club members have to make history repeat itself. Carrow staggers around there moaning about respect and order, Runcorn chuckling when he tells me about his passion, as if he wants me to apply for an internship, Malfoy… Good Lord, Lucius Malfoy's indignation when his grandson wasn't granted a membership has been among the least repulsive events there, almost dignified. As was Lestrange's drinking my whiskey."

The people around the room stared at him. His temper may not have surprised anyone, but the complexity behind his ramblings was unusual.

Arthur Weasley looked away, Kingsley Shacklebolt scribbled something on his pile of copies, Minerva McGonagall had her superior do-not-argue-with-me-unless-you-want-to-end-your-l ife-now-look. Her nephew looked as if he most of all wanted to transform into a cat and claw something. Bill Weasley spoke.

"If this is history repeating itself and it continues, the pure-blood population, I mean THAT pure-blood population, will have a young population of… wards, more or less. We'll have boarding schools from a very early age, if these children's remaining parents are to rule Britain."

"Oh, but Pollux wanted us to wait and see," Sirius snarled. "Just for a while. Perhaps until Harry dies of a dragon pox no one ever heard of, and Ginny is made sole guardian of their unborn child. I wonder what happens when THAT pure-blood population realizes she'll never share their beliefs no matter how pure her blood is."

Molly Weasley, looking angry enough to evoke a thunderstorm by sheer willpower, opened her mouth but nothing came out. Contradicting emotions were written all over her face, and, for once, Sirius knew exactly how she felt.

"Well, maybe we should wait," Bill continued, and Sirius wanted to punch him.

"Of all the people in here, I guess you are the only one who can say that, Weasley. You are one of a kind, the last in a very curious line of wizards. Probably the only one, the last one minimally inbred pure-blood who is lucky enough to have had magical children with your lovely pure-blood wife," Sirius snarled, too angry, agitated, outraged, worried and desperate to see the younger man's wounded expression. No one spoke in the silence after his out-brake. Then two voices spoke at once.

"Have you told Hermione about this?" Remus asked at the same time Bill, obviously trying to sound calm said:

"I meant, just wait to see in what direction this lead goes. Towards the Carrow family or towards what remains of the Lestranges. I would have no qualms about hunting down and arrest, and perhaps be rather carless in handling either Amycus Carrow or Rudolphus Lestrange on his way to the Wizengamot, maybe take a detour to see some Mountains troll, or a visit to Charlie's dragon farm. To use that hideous expression of Dumbledore's, For the Greater Good. It's the most dangerous motto to live by. When is it for the Greater Good, and when is it just better for me personally, but here I can actually rely to it. Building a New Britain on the grounds of blood purity must be extinguished at any cost. It would however be a dreadful move to have me, Harry, Sean, Angelina and all the other Aurors to just take in Runcorn, Carrow, Lestrange, Malfoy on the grounds that they are conservative, politically incorrect pure-bloods. For all we know it could be the bartender, Paul Umbridge, who is running this operation as a puppet to his aunt, the toad lady, whatever her name…"

"Dolores," George supplied with a snigger.

"Yeah, right. Neither of us thinks that is the case, but we don't know, and if we came storming in at the Cantankerous, or at these people's places of work, we will have blown every cover. Kingsley as an unbiased Minister for Magic, which is the best protection we've ever had, not to mention your own position, Sirius. Your fellow club members might be bastards, but they are not idiots. They'd pin a raid like that on you in seconds, and even if you'd never go near that club again, they, the real they, the psychopathic fuck-heads behind the New Pure Britain, would hunt you down and death would be something to beg for. So, don't you dare pair me up with them because of my magical children." Bill met Sirius glare, and Sirius broke away first.

"I'm sorry, Bill. You are right. I just hope for something to happen so I don't have to keep being Lord Black at that club. It's… It's the worst under cover I've ever had. I hear myself saying the most horrific things, or hear my father rather, and then all these high and mighty wizards agreeing with me."

"We would never have gotten this far without your, Sirius, "Kingsley said. "So, corner Carrow tomorrow? Is that your plan?"

Sirius shook his head.

"You can't really ask me about my plan. I take that Felix potion, and it just guides me. I'll try to get close to Carrow tomorrow, but luck might push me in another direction."

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Poppy, are you aware of any more pregnancies in these newly registered marriages?"

"Yes, a few, but I'm not really at liberty to say. Confidentiality."

"Of course, but can you perhaps ask them to be extra careful, and report any illnesses in the half-blood or muggleborn partner to you?"

"Yes, I will."

Kingsley stood up and began to round up the meeting. It was decided that Bob McGonagall and one of Bill's most trusted Aurors would go on a surveillance mission to the cottage where Amycus Carrow lived with his sister in Ottery St. Catchpole and try out some discreet counter spells on the Carrows' wards. Later he would do the same at the Lestrange castle. Sirius handed over Pollux diary to Bob, pointing out the chapters of old counters that might have been forgotten. Bob lit up like a child on Christmas, and Sirius felt a little less alone in his own mission. It was also decided that Kingsley himself would look into what Dolores Umbridge was up to nowadays. She was placed in the International Magical Trading Standards Body, where her passion for rules and regulations came in handy. Percy Weasley hadn't seen leaking cauldron in years.

Most Order members had left when Remus came and sat by Sirius at the coffee table. Tonks was clearing the teacups and plates.

"Have you, Sirius?"

"No, I haven't told Hermione. Course I haven't. How could I? This is hard on her as it is. Being too sick to work. She keeps mentioning Tonks who said she didn't experience anything like this when she was pregnant with Teddy, and it makes her feel inferior."

"Inferior? Me?" Tonks asked and joined them, munching the last of the cake.

"No, Hermione. To you. You are this strong wonder witch who didn't get any negative pregnancy symptoms. In her view," Sirius told his cousin.

"Me? Nonsense! You said so yourself, Sirius. Bottom of the gene pool barrel. If it hadn't been for my darling muggle father who diluted the Black insanity, and then Remus, Teddy would never have been. Is she better now?"

Sirius nodded.

"I think so. Tired, though. Home for a month, then we'll see."

"But there are positive pregnancy symptoms too, Sirius," Tonks giggled.

"What do you mean? Apart from her getting even more beautiful to me?"

"That too, but I bet she feels the same about you."

"What are you on about, Tonks?" Sirius sighed.

"Oh, nothing. You'll see." Tonks left the room with a pile of dishes levitated in front of her. Sirius turned to Remus who tried to stifle a laugh.

"What? What is it? What are you on about? Tell me!"

"Oh, no. I don't have to. And, as my lovely wife just pointed out, you'll see."

Sirius huffed. A clock on the mantelpiece chimed six and he wanted to get home.

* * *

Hermione was in the kitchen, preparing supper. A veggie soup, some garlic bread and small bowls of olives, cheese and nuts. She wore more relaxed clothes than her teaching suits and robes; a pair of faded jeans showed off her bottom in the most distracting manner, and a thin white shirt that had one button too many unbuttoned for Sirius to be able to keep an intellectual discussion on any topic with her. He was just about to drop his jacket on the floor and grab her when someone cleared her throat.

"Hello Sirius."

Ginny sat perched on the worktop, a glass of ginger ale in her hand.

"Oh, Ginny. Hi. Didn't see you there."

"I can see you didn't," the young redhead giggled, in a tone similar to Tonks' a few minutes ago.

"How's Harry?"

"He's fine. Behind you."

Sirius turned around to face Harry. Suddenly his old Auror instincts kicked in.

"How did you get here? Tell me you didn't use the front door."

"Easy on the paranoia, Sirius," Harry smiled. "No, we apparated directly into the garden and woke Hermione up. Kicked her out, have you?"

"Don't be a smart-arse, Harry," Hermione said. "I told you I'm fine."

"You certainly are," Sirius mumbled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Have you told them? he whispered."

"No, waited for you," she whispered back.

"Are you going to tell us now, Hermione?" Ginny asked slyly from the other end of the room.

"Tell us what?" Harry asked confused.

"My guess," said Ginny, " is that Hermione was asleep on the porch to conquer morning sickness and that she's been waiting for Sirius to come home before she tells us she's having a baby. A few months after us. Am I right?"

Sirius coughed, Hermione laughed, Harry gaped.

"Did your mother tell you that?" Sirius panted, recovering.

"No, she didn't have to. But I could smell her tea as soon as we got inside, and I can kind of see it on Hermione."

"I'm not showing yet, am I?" Hermione pressed her hands to her stomach.

Ginny looked overly pleased with herself. Harry still looked shell shocked, but managed to pat Sirius on the shoulder and mutter something vaguely resembling 'Well done. Congratulations.' Ginny focused on Hermione who still sought Ginny's eyes for an answer to her question.

"No," Ginny whispered in a stage whisper. "Not there, a bit higher."

Three pairs of eyes were glued to Hermione's breasts and the deep gap in her shirt. She blushed and turned around, buttoning up.

"OK," she said when she faced them again. "Show's over. Thanks for your discretion, Ginny."

"Any time." Ginny hopped down from the worktop, went over to Hermione and pulled her friend into a hug. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. I couldn't be happier, our babies will be in the same year at Hogwarts in twelve years, can you imagine?"

All four laughed.

Sirius pulled Harry aside.

"On a completely different note, son. Where were you today? We had an Order meeting at the Lupins."

"Why? Why not here?"

Sirius sighed. Why didn't people read their owls?

"Haven't you read the folder I sent to your office a couple of days ago?"

"I haven't been at my office for a week. I've been on training in Edinburgh."

Sirius pulled Harry into his study and filled him in on just about everything.

"And not much more to do than carrying on like before with Lord Black and utmost caution on all fronts."

"So this…"

"Nightmare, yeah. Conspiracy of the lunatics."

"…from 17-something, is it true?"

"No one knows. Pollux says so, but he'd say anything disrespectful about the pure-bloods. Not that I disagree with him, he just comes off pretty strong. Almost as dedicated and mad as Moody was."

"Well, Moody was right. Most of the time."

"No one knows if it really was a conspiracy, but historical facts suggest it. And if the plan behind it somehow has surfaced again, we'd better be prepared. And sacred."

"Does Hermione…"

"No."

"But you have to…"

"I know. Was Ginny with you in Edinburgh? I mean, she doesn't know either, does she?"

"Yes, we were both in Edinburgh. I'll stop by the office and pick up the folder, then we'll discuss it tonight. And you? You need to tell Hermione straight away."

"I know. I will. Were you guys planning on staying for supper?"

"No, no. Just a quick stop to see you actually. Really surprised to see Hermione home. Why isn't she at Hogwarts?"

Sirius filled Harry in on that as well before the young Potters left Grimmauld Place. Harry was quite thoughtful and quiet, but neither Ginny nor Hermione seemed to notice, chatting away on baby matters.

_ I will tell her. Do I need to tell her now? We could have just one more night of not-really-knowing. She'll be keeping a low profile here in the house. No one will tell her. Everyone will assume I've told her. She doesn't need to know. Yet. Ever, if we can just find the source. If Lord Black can just make Carrow talk. Or Lestrange… Lestrange…_

Sirius felt Hermione's hands embrace him from behind. Warm and firm they sneaked under his shirt and up his chest.

"What are you thinking about?"

_ Lestrange._


	38. Telling Hermione as well

Sirius felt Hermione's hands embrace him from behind. Warm and firm they sneaked under his shirt and up his chest.

"What are you thinking about?"

_ Lestrange._

"Nothing, love." He turned around in her embrace, cupped her face and kissed her softly. Her breath hitched and she pressed herself against him. Surprised, but not in the least complaining or questioning her eager response, he managed to shut his mind to his musings. Slowly, to tease her to show some true colours, he unbuttoned the first of her shirt buttons.

"I kind of liked these undone," he breathed into her ear.

He chuckled when she shivered and unbuttoned another one. She answered by placing a love bite at the side of his neck.

_ Oh, that will show tomorrow, but I don't care._

He tasted her creamy skin the half-buttoned shirt showed. When he pulled away for a second to meet her eyes, all slow, teasing foreplay withered. The look in her eyes was absolutely pining for him. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath shaky.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Whatever for?" he whispered back, cupping her cheeks.

"You asked me this morning. I don't really feel sick anymore, but I sleep a lot. But when I don't, I mean, I've spent the whole afternoon sleeping on the porch so I'm all right now, only…"

"Only what, love?"

"Only thinking about you all the time. I mean, I want you all the time. I almost started crying when you came home and Ginny was here and…"

Sirius chuckled.

_ Is this a positive pregnancy symptom? Let's hope._

He slid his hands under her shirt and up to her breasts. No bra. He swallowed hard.

"I want you all the time, too, and I'm not pregnant. You are just irresistible in yourself."

Her nipples contracted into hard buds immediately and she threw her head back and moaned.

_ I might have died and gone to muggle heaven._

When Sirius lifted her up, her legs went around his hips, pressing him to her. He had thought about carrying her to the bedroom upstairs, but that resolve went out the window when she straightened up in his arms and kissed him forcefully.

_ Merlin, I've missed you. I can't be without you, ever again. I get hard by being in the same room as you._

He shoved her onto the worktop and quickly undid her jeans, which she, a little unsteadily, worked herself out of. Sirius took a step back and started to undress while he watched her intently. Her breasts really were fuller, and maybe her stomach. The unhealthy skinniness had disappeared and he was certain he'd never seen anyone so sexy as his young, little wife sitting topless in his kitchen, hungrily watching his fingers undress himself. When he undid his belt, Hermione, quite unconsciously, wet her lips and he heard himself groan at the sight. In one stride he closed the space between them and pulled her flush against him, whispering between kisses and bites exactly how he felt.

"You saying that, and sitting here in front of me in those totally inadequate panties, licking your lips turns me on beyond anything. I want to lick you all over and make you wriggle and whimper in that way you do. I can't believe how lucky I am. I want to…"

He was silenced by her lips and tongue and teeth.

"Let's see if we can get beyond that anything," she panted against his lips.

"I'm an old man," he chuckled.

"Nonsense," she whispered back, arching against him when he palmed her slim back. "You're still standing, aren't you?"

"Mhm, but…"

"Just hold that thought." She slid down from the worktop, kneeled in front of him and took him in her mouth.

_Ah, where have you learned that? I don't want to know. Oh…_

He was still standing, but held on to the bench and squeezed his eyes shut to prolong the pleasure his little, very recently inexperienced and sexually uninterested, wife gave him.

"I'm… I can't…" he muttered between clenched teeth.

Her answer came in the form of her hands coming up to cup him, and there was no chance in hell he could control himself. The dim lights in the kitchen seemed to go out, all at once, by the violent waves of his climax. He couldn't care less about Order members, mad ancestors, possible coup d'états and fossilized Cantankerous members. Only Hermione. The fact that they all were connected in a twisted relationship eluded him more than ever.

Regaining his wits, his whole being, he realised he was actually still standing, by reasons and forces unknown to him.

Shakily he pulled her up from the floor, and against his chest.

"You are amazing, kitten. I must have done something right, at some point…" Sirius mumbled.

Hermione squirmed against him, and he bent down to bite her shoulder, collarbone, neck, jaw.

"I still want to lick you all over."

She giggled in response and headed for the kitchen door, with him hot on her heels.

"Can I please take you all the way up to my bed now?" he asked with his arms around her, in an uncomfortable, walking embrace.

"If you are quick," she answered teasingly and pressed herself against him.

The next second she found herself in his arms, and on her way up to the third floor of Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, no. I'll be slow. Wickedly slow. I'll have you beg to take you faster, and eventually I'll comply. When I've had you screaming, panting and moaning my name enough times."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw a small movement in Phineas Nigellus' portrait that hung on the walls in the stairs. Few things could interest less at the time.

Supper was late, bordering on very early Sunday breakfast.

* * *

Sirius woke up first, but still among the last in London that Sunday morning. Hermione lay curled up beside him, fast asleep. He raised his head a few inches and saw angry, dark love-bites on her left shoulder. Sirius was appalled.

_ Did I do this? Technically they are bruises. Anyone who'd see her naked would have me pinned down as a wife beater. _

He eased himself out of bed, went to brew a pot of Molly's herbal tea, before he consulted his bathroom cabinet for potions and ointments and found small jar of Star Grass Salve. After a quick shower he went back to the bed, waiting for Hermione to wake up.

Sirius watched her sleep, trying to picture her at fifteen, coming to the cave where he hid outside Hogsmeade with a basket of elf made food. One time he'd almost asked her, or was it Harry or Ron, to bring some liquor, just about anything, but realised that he couldn't ask children that. He had ventured a weekend to Remus instead, spending most of the time drunk and under several blankets. In the cave he'd been the opposite: perpetually cold and painfully sober, watchful, bordering paranoid. He remembered not being able to really be happy about anything, but constantly worrying about Harry's participation in the Tournament. Hermione he only remembered vaguely.

He reached for the salve. It smelled like grass, with a hint of thyme. He dipped his finger into it and softly rubbed the dark bruises on Hermione's neck and shoulder. The duvet slipped down and horrified Sirius saw the same kind of tell-tale marks on Hermione's breast. He hesitated to pull the duvet down further, not knowing what marks he'd find on his wife's body.

_ I've never considered myself a violent lover. What happened?_

Hermione stirred and stretched. He leaned in and kissed her swollen lips softly.

"Morning," she whispered and smiled.

"Morning," he answered tentatively. "Tea?"

"Yes, please, but what is that scent?"

"It's… oh, sorry, does it make you feel sick?"

"No, not at all, it smells nice, but what is it?"

Her eyes were as clear as ever when they met his, looking for honesty. Sirius had to look away.

"What? Sirius? What is it?"

"It's… I… How are you today? How do you feel?"

"I'm… fine. Why are you so weird?"

Sirius put the small jar away and took Hermione's hand, stroking her arm up to her shoulder. His fingers touched the scar Bellatrix had carved into Hermione's skin, and his thumb rested very gently under a particularly gruesome bruise.

_ Same bottom-of-the-gene-pool-barrel with a fancy for violence._

"Why didn't you ask me to stop last night?" he asked, still not able to meet her eyes.

"Stop what?"

"Look at you! Look what I did to you. You are all bruised. I don't dare look at more of you, afraid of what I'll see. I must have been an absolute monster with you. Why didn't you tell me?"

_ Smooth, Sirius. Blame it on her. 'She didn't say no, so it was all right.' That's what rapists say._

Hermione lowered her gaze to where Sirius held her.

"Oh," was all she said.

Sirius let go of her and stood up.

"Look, I'm truly sorry. I had no idea. The jar there is Star Grass, you probably know it well. For bruises and cuts. I'll leave you alone. I really didn't mean to hurt you."

He moved towards the door.

"No, don't go. Sirius, wait," He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"You come back here now. This instant." She had never used such a sharp tone with him and it worked like magic. He resumed his position on the edge of the bed.

"Now, look at me. Please."

Grimacing he did, and by some kind of miracle she looked back at him with love, compassion and worry.

"We'd been apart, and maybe our lovemaking was a bit more… desperate than before, but you didn't hurt me. Do you truly believe I wouldn't have told you if you'd hurt me? When it happened? If it happened?" She sat up, leaned in against him and pulled him into a hug, kissing her way along his neck.

_ Of course. But I'd just tried to picture you as a young girl, saving my life with pumpkin pies. And I've never bitten you hard enough to bruise you like that before._

Hermione eased her way up his lap and kissed him properly, and, as always when she did that, every worried thought in Sirius' mind rested their cases. He pushed down the sheets that were wedged between them to feel her naked skin against his own. He pushed her down on her back and stopped dead in his movements.

He could see imprints of his own hand on her left breast, and a row of dark marks along her ribcage on her right side. Her pelvis was bruised on both sides, and another imprint of his hand, the left this time, was shadowed around her hip. His breath caught in his throat, and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from screaming.

Very gently he reached for her hands that stroked his chest and stilled them in a soft grip.

"Look at yourself, Hermione. Please."

Hermione glanced down her body and froze.

"What… Why… No, what is this…"

"Do you need to compare these prints?" Sirius mumbled, holding his right hand and inch away from her left hip.

"No, no, of course it's your hand, but why is it all…"

"But I've told you. I'm a monster."

She used her razorblade voice again.

"Shut up! You are no such thing. If I remember correctly, and you know I'm not comfortable talking about sex, I was asking you to be… rougher. I remember you hesitating, and me forcing you more or less, so enough with the self-flagellation. Now, what is wrong with me that makes me into an unlikely haemophiliac."

"Haemo…what?"

"Muggle disease. Only effects men. The blood doesn't coagulate, some bleed to death by internal bleedings in the brain, stomach, wherever. Always terribly bruised."

"Only effects men?"

"Well, women would die once they reach puberty."

"Oh, I see."

"Probably not a pure-blood disease among the magic population."

"Does it… hurt?" Sirius gently stroked her ribcage.

"What?" Hermione pressed her fingers against her purplish pelvic bone. "No, almost not at all. But it can't be normal to…"

_ I have to tell her now. Right now. Pollux thinks it won't happen until after one or several childbirths, but what does he know? He's dead._

Sirius placed his fingers against Hermione's lips. She watched him surprised.

"I need to tell you about my week. It's not just the Malfoys popping in. There has been some… progress, in lack of better word, in understanding the agenda behind the Marriage Law. Quite alarming if it's true. We discussed it yesterday at the meeting. But I can't talk about it here. In bed. With you naked, it's too bloody hard. I'll make breakfast and we'll have it in the library."

Hermione looked scared.

"Is it bad?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" A hint of steel in her soft voice.

"Can't you guess?" Sirius gave up on hiding his fears for her and she could read him as easily as a re-read favourite book.

Without any sexual intent she pressed herself against him again.

"Just hold me a minute first. Hard."

He closed his eyes and did shat she asked.

* * *

"But… Why… Can there… When would…" Frustrated Hermione shook her head. She rested her hands on the cover of the original folder of Pollux' secret report. They sat opposite each other at the desk in the library.

"I know. I couldn't really form a proper question, either."

"But the Order knows? You've discussed it, right?"

"Yes, you are as up to date as anyone now. I know, I'm a bastard for not telling you. I just can't…" Sirius raked his hand through his hair and sighed deeply.

"Can't what?"

Sirius rose and came and stood behind Hermione. He embraced her shoulders with his large hands, but a lot gentler than usually. He bent down and kissed her on the top of her head.

"Handle the thought of losing you. Had we known this before, the risk you might be in for being pregnant I would never have touched you."

Hermione sat very still.

"You mean you regret the baby? And me?"

He didn't understand what she said.

"Do you?" she pressed on.

"Regret you?"

"Yes. Do you?"

Sirius swirled her around in the old desk chair and kneeled in front of her. She looked as scared as he felt, but suddenly he caught on.

"No. No, no, no. I'll go insane if you question that again, but I loved you before this." He palmed her stomach. "I wish we would have used protection. There are spells… I remember wondering about you not being pregnant earlier this summer, when you probably already were but we didn't know, and I thought that either one of us, or both, were unable to have children. And this tiny, tiny life in here is still not real to me. But somehow it might put you at risk if my fellow pure-bloods are up their usual demented standards. You know, when I grew up and rebelled, I used to think that they, my parents, Regulus, Bellatrix, Narcissa, were just out-dated, old-fashioned, conservative. And more or less stupid. I never really understood the real threat until the first war. And now, putting the pieces together and respect the cunning planning behind all this, acknowledge that their view on blood lines are strong enough to… do anything for, I'm scared. I'm prepared to do whatever it takes, be an Auror again, go to war, take the bloody seat in the Wizengamot as a cover, but with you in the equation, I'm so vulnerable. Even though prepared to die for our cause, I'd rather just go to the west coast of Ireland with you and hide. I won't, of course, but there you have it. I'd put you in front of the Black pride, the Order, the Good Cause, but I won't because you'd despise me for it. But you are that important to me, and if I'd known earlier about Pollux' hidden, ancient report, I wouldn't have risked you getting pregnant. At the beginning of our marriage I suddenly found myself in a win-win situation. I had complied to whatever the Ministry wanted from me, I had protected a fellow Order member, and, most of all, I had you. And before long, your love. I could live on your love on a desert island. I'd never ask for anything more."

Hermione beamed down at him.

"I love you too." She sat quiet for a minute, lost in thought. Sirius could see worry and fear in her facial lines and expression.

"Would you like me to owl Poppy for you?"

Hermione blinked, suddenly aware of his presence. She hesitated before she answered.

"No. Not now. I mean, I feel fine now, I just look horrendous." She touched a bruise where her neck met her shoulder. "And calling Poppy would put our sex life quite on display, wouldn't it?" She ventured a small, embarrassed smile.

"Poppy provides professional secrecy, I'm sure."

"I know, but still…Let's wait until tonight. I can ask her over when you go to the club."

Sirius reached for the star shaped jar on the desk.

"Then let me put on some more of this," he said.

Slowly Hermione reached for the buttons in her shirt and began undoing them slowly.

"You don't mind?" she asked teasingly while she slid out of the chair and down in his lap.

"When would I ever mind anything that involves touching you?" he whispered.

Alone in the library, the house at 12 Grimmauld Place and, as far as they themselves were concerned, all of London, Hermione unbuttoned the last button and shimmied out of her shirt. Softly Sirius rubbed the herb-smelling salve on her bruised body.

Little did they know how their twoness would soon enough be a thing of the past.


End file.
